


cut to the feeling

by transit (dollyeo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Magic Realism, Minor Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, seeing into the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 11:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/transit
Summary: Seeing and knowing the future isn't all it's cracked up to be, especially when it doesn't feel like it has a shot in hell of ever happening. Just ask Soonyoung.





	1. Chapter 1

"You're late."

Nearly half a year of not seeing each other and Soonyoung doesn't have the heart to look Seokmin in the eye; he rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, sheepish.

"Since when was I ever early for anything?" Soonyoung says, opening his arms out to Seokmin and wrapping him up in a hug that makes Seokmin wheeze and squirm away. "If you wanted me to be here by seven, you should have told me dinner starts at five."

"I thought food was supposed to be enough incentive for you to get your ass into gear," Seokmin grunts out, but the pout on his lips soon breaks out into a wide grin. "You've been spending too much time in dream land again, haven't you?"

Soonyoung bites his lip, but doesn't deny it. Not too much. "I wasn't _daydreaming_ , I was—"

"Yeah, yeah," says Seokmin, waving him off, like he's heard it before a hundred times. (He has.) He takes a step back, looking Soonyoung over up and down, appraising. "Though by the look of things, it doesn't look like you've been getting much sleep."

"Are you saying I look ugly?"

"So ugly I can see the bags in your eyes," says Seokmin. He ducks out of Soonyoung's hold, right before Soonyoung can pinch his arm. "Don't keel over on me tonight, hyung. Jisoo-hyung's out of town so we're gonna have to resort to the emergency hotline if you pass out."

"I'm hungry," Soonyoung whines. "Just feed me already so I can go get drunk and sleep for the rest of the break."

"Yeah, yeah," says Seokmin, stepping aside to let Soonyoung into his apartment. He takes Soonyoung's coat, and manages to squeeze it into the coat hanger with a wave of his hand.

Out of all his friends, it's Seokmin that Soonyoung would have wanted to be roommates with the most. He doesn't have the coolest kind of magic there is, but it _is_ pretty damn useful. "I'm basically every middle-aged housewife's wet dream come to life," is all Seokmin has to say about his knack for cleaning and clearing every imaginable surface. "It's the only reason I'm even hanging out with you guys, right?"

"Then why'd you have to turn me down when I offered my apartment practically rent-free?" Soonyoung whines.

"No thanks," says Seokmin. "I'd rather live with Mingyu and Minghao than have to deal with damage control every time _you_ almost burn down the kitchen."

"It was _one time_ \--"

"More like three, but whatever," Seokmin says, shrugging. "Are you sure _that_ isn't your gift, hyung?"

Soonyoung huffs, swatting him away, and makes his way into the living room, already itching to get out.

There are more people than Soonyoung expects hanging around the living room with glasses of wine or cans of beer in hand, watching the Chuseok special on TV or making small talk. He spots Minghao and Seungkwan on the couch with some people Soonyoung doesn't know, but he still raises a hand to wave at them anyway without having to wade through a dozen other people. It's been a long time since Soonyoung's gone to a party that has _nothing_ to do with work, and Soonyoung already feels like a fish out of the water, like he's twenty again and going to his first uni party without any liquid courage, just Seokmin poking insistently at the small of his back to steer him right into the fold. It's super awkward.

It's not like Seokmin's parties have gotten any wilder than they used to be. If anything, age and inherent near-OCD tendencies courtesy of his nagging roommates have made Seokmin a little wary about drunken make-outs and vomiting all over his immaculate carpeted floor, but not all of their friends have managed to graduate past that stage just yet; it's almost funny how the noise in the living room is a stark contrast to the muted, low hum of conversation and cutlery in the dining area. Not for the first time, Soonyoung realizes they're all getting old, getting closer to their thirties by the minute.

Time has a funny way of working, it turns out. One minute, you're in college thinking you have the luxury of time to fuck around and look for possibilities, the next you're staring up at a ceiling with secondhand shame ruining the sheets and wondering at how fleeting freedom feels, with a deadline looming. It makes him clench his fingers into a fist, bracing himself for the worst. He hates it.

"I thought this was supposed to be dinner, not a party," says Soonyoung, trying to distract himself from letting his mind wander into things he'd rather think about when he's shitfaced drunk and incapable of remembering anything. "What happened to _those_ plans?"

"Yeah, well, Seungkwan made cow eyes at Hansol, and _then_ those bastards ganged up on me," says Seokmin. Soonyoung can't help but laugh at that, at how Seokmin's so, so easy to persuade into anything. Out of all of them, Seokmin's the easiest one to cave, always so game for anything; it's gotten him into trouble more than once before, and Soonyoung's probably the reasons for half of those incidents already.

One time in uni, he dared Seokmin to jump into the olympic pool in the nude, and Seokmin had just said, " _Only_ if you do it with me," and started stripping his shirt off in the middle of body shots off of Mingyu's body. They'd made their way out of the dorms and across campus in a drunken daze, Soonyoung stumbling on his ass more than once and Seokmin nearly walking into stationary objects without a far more sober Minghao to steer them back to the right path, and they'd all climbed into the gate and tried to squeeze through one of the windows at the back of the locker room before Mingyu remembered he had a key.

It wasn't exactly the wisest decision any of them made, sneaking in – especially Mingyu, who'd _just_ gotten the vice-captain position in the swim team – but they'd never really made great decisions even while sober, and they weren't about to start any time soon. Seokmin had dived in with a loud splash, still in his jeans and half a sock on, and Mingyu had followed soon after with a whoop and Minghao's hand cradled tightly into his. And Soonyoung was so, so content to just watch from the side, treading at water with his feet, but Seokmin – the bastard – had the guts to hold onto his ankle and drag him in without warning.

He would have tried to drown Seokmin, running on heady adrenaline and recklessness, but then the lights turned on and Soonyoung almost had a heart attack in that moment.

In retrospect, at least it wasn't the security guard doing his rounds; years later, when anyone brings up the story of 'how Soonyoung met the match of his life', they'd all throw knowing looks at Soonyoung, oblivious to the dread pooling in his stomach and mistaking his discomfort for embarrassment. It could have been worse. They could have been suspended.

At that moment, though – with Soonyoung's heart in his throat and his skin freezing in the middle of the pool – Soonyoung hadn't thought of it as a relief, or a godsend.

("Fuck," Jeon Wonwoo had said, the first time he'd met Soonyoung, "what are you idiots doing here at this time of the night?" and Soonyoung had—)

 _Don't_ , Soonyoung tells himself, biting the inside of his cheek. His skin feels clammy, peppered with goosebumps all over, as cold and sobering as that night. _Don't think about that_.

Fortunately, Seokmin fills the lull on his own, cuffing the back of Soonyoung's neck like _he's_ the older one. Asshole. "You could have warned me about it, you know," says Seokmin, easily dodging Soonyoung's irritated pinch to his side. "Then we could just be emptying wine bottles and getting it all over Mingyu's ugly carpet like middle-aged housewives instead."

"As if _this_ crowd wouldn't end up spilling _something_ on the floor," Soonyoung retorts. He bets someone's already making great headway on that front, and he doesn't even need to see it firsthand to know.

It takes practice to learn when the hypotheticals start, and the gut feeling ends. He wishes he could unlearn it.

Then again, no one really has a choice when it comes to this kind of thing; sometimes, it's little more than an inconvenience, other times a lifesaver, but more often than not, Soonyoung thinks it's just a huge pain in the ass.

He could have lived with a gift like knowing the right thing to say at exactly the right time, or at least being able to read anyone's mind. It would have given him less of a headache than this one does already, even if Chan _does_ think it's the coolest thing ever.

Seokmin, on the other hand, doesn't share the sentiment as much, but always brings it up when he's trying to make a point. Like, say, right now. "Aren't you supposed to be the one who's supposed to be able to see the future?"

"I'm glad you have so much faith in me, but I'm really not that powerful," says Soonyoung, dryly. Seokmin raises an eyebrow and doesn't look convinced at all.

It's true, though. The gift – it’s arbitrary, something Soonyoung's never really had complete control over when it first manifested at a young age. He's even worse than Chan in that regard, magic always spilling over, overflowing, uncontrollable. He's learned to take it in stride over the years, but some days he just drifts off in a middle of a conversation and hours later he's waking up to a ceiling and several concerned faces, being checked out for a concussion. Sometimes, having precognitive abilities is a pain in the ass.

It doesn't help that his vision's far less reliable than any fortune tellers', as he's been told repeatedly. "What's the point of knowing the future if you can't do jack shit with it?" is a constant thing that riles Soonyoung up and makes his cheeks heat up with fury, and it's always put Soonyoung in a tight spot when he's trying not to jump at anyone's ( _someone's_ ) throat for it. It's just one person that keeps pushing his buttons that way like no one else does. It's just fucking Jeon Wonwoo.

Just the thought of it makes his stomach churn, but it's too late to back out. If Seokmin's known exactly what (or who) it is that's been keeping Soonyoung away, time and again, it would crush him, and Soonyoung's just not in the habit of breaking hearts. You don't have to like the friends of your friends, but Seokmin's kind of always been a little invested in having everyone get along, even if he had to lock them in a room to do it. Soonyoung knows he's not above trying it. He's done it before.

Still, Soonyoung and Wonwoo have always been – well. They're not friends, but they're _not_ not-friends. And there are some things about Wonwoo that Soonyoung's always been more than a little wary of, even if Wonwoo keeps his secrets close to his heart, unyielding. Soonyoung just knows.

When he makes his way into the dining room with Seokmin at his heels, though, he knows he should have been prepared. The simmering heat pooling in his gut the minute he sees Wonwoo, deep in conversation with Mingyu; the ache, fisted tightly in his chest. It's familiar, through and through. He should be used to it already. He _should_.

And then Wonwoo turns to look at him, and Soonyoung just. Stops. Thinking.

 

 

_Static; a blur of white, spotless, exploding into his mind._

_Soonyoung keeps his eyes closed, tries to will away the pounding in his head. It never gets any easier, moving from reality to another plane of something more distant, far-off, but he's learned over time that one of the better solutions is to try to focus on one point in his mind and just. Breathe._

_In. And out. In. And out._

_When the queasiness in his stomach finally settles and the ache in his mind dulls to a low, steady beat, he finally opens his eyes. He looks up at a ceiling, powder blue and familiar, though it isn't anything like his room, or anyone else's he knows. Not yet, at least._

_One day, he's supposed to know this intimately, to live in this reality like it's the only thing he knows. The framed photos on the bedside table, the beaming faces half-covered by the alarm clock and the thin film of haze always clouding Soonyoung's brain – they're things that haven't happened yet, only a possibility._

_It doesn't look like it's going to happen any time soon, he thinks. The thought of it makes his mind hurt all over._

_He tries to roll over to his side, but there's an arm over his chest, trapping him under its weight; it's not built, like Mingyu, more lanky and bony in that regard, but there's a deceptive strength in it that Soonyoung's never been too familiar with except in his visions. It doesn't stop him from trying to get out, no, even if the body behind him is a comforting warmth coaxing him to sink into it and lay back, an illusion of a lazy, domestic weekend of sleeping in. It shouldn't –_

_A hand props itself up onto his blanketed hip, and Soonyoung stills._

_"Soonyoung-ah," his bedmate groans, voice low, husky, and Soonyoung almost shivers. "Stop squirming and go back to sleep. It's too early for this."_

_Soonyoung doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. He's been dreaming of the same person for years, now, and counting. The same voice, echoing. That body heat, still elusive. He sighs._

_"It's eight in the morning, Wonwoo-yah," He says, looking at the glowing digits on the alarm clock. "I missed my morning jog."_

_Wonwoo snorts, and his breath against Soonyoung's nape makes him shudder. "We both know you just wanna pet all the dogs you can find outside," says Wonwoo. He tightens his grip around Soonyoung, caging him in. "One day off isn't gonna kill you."_

_"It's not my fault you never wanna come with me," says Soonyoung. He cranes his neck to the side, just enough to take a peek at Wonwoo, bedhead and all. "And who's to say I wasn't flirting with all the single dads and the athletes?"_

_"Good luck with that," Wonwoo scoffs. His hand comes up to cover the back of Soonyoung's knuckles, rubbing against the slight hint of metal before threading their fingers together. "One look at this will have them backing away in no time."_

_"I knew it was a bad idea to promise I'd never take this off," says Soonyoung. Wonwoo leans closer, until their noses bump together. "I'll never be able to get rid of you now."_

_"Never," Wonwoo crows, the skin around his eyes crinkling. It makes something in Soonyoung clench, catching in his throat; this Wonwoo, with his unruly hair, his disheveled clothes, morning breath and the mark of a pillow crease on his skin -- it's all his to keep, but only here._

_He doesn't know what he's doing, playing house in a future that seems so out of reach. Soonyoung doesn't know how this sums up with the Wonwoo in his time – the one that looks at Soonyoung with barely anything past disinterest and vague irritation, the one Soonyoung avoids like a plague if he can help it – but he thinks he knows this Wonwoo, at least. He doesn't have anything to lose, not with him._

_It's impossible not to like this version of Wonwoo, with all his rough edges molding into a softer kind of heat. Intimacy. This Wonwoo knows Soonyoung like the back of his hand, can dissect their history together, their path like he's lived it time and again. This Wonwoo knows exactly what to say to make Soonyoung's stomach bubble in laughter or simmer with desire._ This _Wonwoo talks to him._

_It's hard to reconcile the two in his head, when he thinks he loves this one with so much feeling his heart would burst, while he can't get away fast enough from the other, if only to still the frustration clawing under his skin every time. In Soonyoung's mind, they aren't the same people, not at all, and until now he can't understand how Wonwoo could be anything like this. It's so different. So unreal._

_Soonyoung can tell the future, but he's not omniscient, all-knowing. He doesn't know how they can get to a point beyond indifference, much less antagonism, doesn't know if Wonwoo would even let it. It's almost impossible to imagine the possibility of it, but Soonyoung knows his power like the back of his hand, knows that if nothing else, then he can trust in it. Trust in_ this. 

_He doesn't know if Wonwoo kisses anyone the way this one pecks at the corner of Soonyoung's mouth, if he can't quite silence his laughter even when he swallows the rest of Soonyoung's grumpiness with a kiss. There's a lot of things that he doesn't know yet, but he just wants to skip to the end and settle down, just like this. It's so easy for this Wonwoo to make him happy, even when the other one doesn't. Not really._

_It shouldn't be this easy, though. Maybe that's why he's going nowhere with the other one._

You've ruined me, _Soonyoung thinks, when Wonwoo breaks away to breathe. He rubs the pad of his thumb across Wonwoo's jaw, rough with stubble and blistering red from a kiss Soonyoung must have sucked into his skin not a few hours ago in this reality._ You've ruined me for him and now I don't want to go back to it.

_"Fine," he says, watching Wonwoo's lips curl into a smile, slow and unfurling. It aches. "Let's go back to sleep."_

_"I knew you'd see things my way," says Wonwoo, looking like he's just won something beyond Soonyoung's understanding. There's no spite in it, though, no arrogance._

_"You're lucky you're cute," says Soonyoung, without any heat. Wonwoo just holds him closer, and tangles their limbs together, sluggish._

_"Love you," says Wonwoo, eyelashes fluttering, closed._

_"Love you too," Soonyoung whispers, and shuts his eyes._


	2. Chapter 2

"— ello? Soonyoung-hyung? Are you okay?" There's a sharp sting of pain to his side, and Soonyoung's eyes flutter, open and close, unseeing for a scant few seconds, right before they settle onto Mingyu's face, blinking down at him.

"Yeah," Soonyoung croaks out, trying to will the migraine forming in his head away, one of the side effects he'd rather live without. "I'm fine."

"Say that again when you don't look like someone just ran you over with a car," says Mingyu, keeping his tone light even as he steers Soonyoung to the nearest stool with a strong grip belying the edge in his voice. He turns to look at Wonwoo, who looks unruffled throughout it all, like he's too used to it to care. Something in Soonyoung's stomach sours, unbidden. "Hey hyung, can you get a bottle of water from the fridge?"

"What am I, your PA?" Wonwoo says, rolling his eyes. "Get it yourself."

"God," Minghao pipes up from somewhere behind Mingyu, "would it kill you to just do it, hyung?"

"I'll go get it," says Seokmin, the pitch of his voice high. Seokmin tends to get a little too nervous at the first sign of conflict, and being caught in the middle of what's proving to be the shittiest start of yet _another_ scene from the two most passive aggressive people in his friend group is probably triggering his flight instincts.

Not for the first time that night, Soonyoung regrets even coming here to begin with.

"It's not like this is the first time _that's_ happened," Wonwoo argues, and Soonyoung doesn't have to keep his eyes peeled on them to know Minghao's probably bristling by now, shoulders as tense as Mingyu's hold on Soonyoung's arm. "You guys are overreacting."

 _Can you maybe not be a jackass tonight?_ Soonyoung thinks of asking, and he would — he really would have — if only the room would stop spinning by now. He lets the back of his head rest against the wall, trying to block everything out.

Whatever lingering feelings of want or warmth have dried up by now, shocked into the reality of this Wonwoo's more ascerbic tongue. It's a huge chunk of the reason Soonyoung keeps wondering if maybe everything's a fluke, like the universe is punishing him for all those times he'd cheated in high school by memorizing the contents of exams set weeks in advance, or that time he'd lied through his teeth to his mom about his grandfather making it past surgery just to keep her from having a complete meltdown. Bad things. They keep happening to good people, honestly.

"It's called being _sensitive_ ," says Minghao. "A concept that some of us _clearly_ haven't grasped yet."

"Big words for someone who didn't even know what that meant in uni," says Wonwoo, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

It's a barely-concealed jab, one that has Mingyu shifting closer to Soonyoung, like he wants to disappear into the wall with Soonyoung instead of having to deal with two of his favorite people in the world being unable to stand each other. Well, three, really, but Soonyoung's not sure how high, exactly, he ranks on Mingyu's list, and he's a little too out of it to even contribute to the stellar dinner conversation. He's glad he has an excuse to constantly filter everything out, even if he has to look like an oblivious idiot for it.

The thing is, Wonwoo not getting along with people is normal. He's quiet, he has a resting bitch face, and his humor tends to reach only a very specific set of people. Minghao, too, is far from winning the most sociable person award, if only for his surprisingly short fuse and his tendency towards bluntness. It was already doomed from the start, and they didn't have the excuse of constantly living together to make things less... awkward.

Soonyoung doesn't like Wonwoo, but he's accepted him in an abstract, far-off way that he reserves for moments of self-pity, wallowing, and denial. More than constant irritation at Wonwoo, though, he just doesn't really care.

Minghao, though — Minghao only _tolerates_ him, if only for the rest of their friends. Knowing all about Soonyoung's _thing_ hasn't done Wonwoo any favors in Minghao's good books, either. And, well. Wonwoo being what he is — it's just the nail on the coffin, that one.

("Are you telling me _that's_ your future husband?" Minghao said, through stilted, struggling Korean the first week after they'd met Wonwoo, and Soonyoung had done nothing but helplessly shrug.

"Yeah," he said, glumly poking at his fries. "I guess so."

They both looked at Wonwoo, at his unimpressed frown, his cagy posture shying away from Seokmin and Mingyu's attempts to rope him into playing with Junhui's dog. Even from a distance, they could already tell he hated it with every fiber of his being. Soonyoung was already kissing his dreams of having a litter of dogs and cats crawling around his hypothetical future suburban home goodbye.

"For your sake, I hope divorce is still a thing fifteen years later," said Minghao, patting the top of his head.) 

It's still the most supportive thing he's ever said to Soonyoung, half a decade later. Not that Minghao isn't a candidate for world's biggest asshole himself, either.

"Yeah," says Minghao, unfazed, even as he narrows his eyes, "you'd know all about that."

"Water!" Seokmin half-yells, swooping in with impeccable timing before the tension escalates. "Here, hyung, see if you can hold this down."

Soonyoung scrunches up his face at the ice-cold plastic bottle pressing against his cheek, and he tries to bat Seokmin away but fails spectacularly when Seokmin takes it as a sign to come closer, crowding him against the wall with Mingyu. Personal space, none of them have it, and while normally Soonyoung takes to embarrassing levels of skinship like a fish in the water, right now it just makes Soonyoung feel like barfing, and he hasn't even had any alcohol in his body yet.

(Except, maybe, for half a bottle of wine he'd downed right before leaving his apartment, if only to steel himself for tonight.

It's the best decision Soonyoung's made all day.)

"Jesus, Seokmin," Wonwoo snaps, sounding as irritated and grouchy as Soonyoung feels. "Just give him some space and _chill_. I can't breathe around you guys right now."

"Sorry, hyung," Seokmin calls out, but from the lack of response and the heavy footsteps padding off into the opposite side of the room, Soonyoung knows Wonwoo's already gone.

Good riddance.

 

 

_Rewind, a few years ago, the first time Soonyoung broke into the swimming pool and met the (hypothetical) love of his life:_

_"Lee Seokmin!" Soonyoung spluttered, as soon as he'd resurfaced from the water after Seokmin's fingers loosened around his ankle and let him go. "I'm gonna fucking_ kill _you when I get my hands on you!"_

_"Try to reach me then, hyung," said Seokmin, laughing at him as he treaded the water, heading off into the deeper end of the pool. "Let's see if you can tiptoe your way here."_

_"I hope you drown," Soonyoung howled. "See if I ever take care of your drunken ass again!"_

_"You're all drunk," Mingyu slurred, like he wasn't the drunkest one out of all of them, clinging to Minghao like an octopus, or some weird tentacle monster that Soonyoung may or may not have seen in some unfortunate clicks through 4chan in junior high that he could never unsee. Minghao just huffed and tried to swim back to the shallower edge of the pool with the equivalent of an overgrown puppy hanging off of his back._

_Soonyoung, being the most helpful person ever, latched onto him immediately, too._

_"Fuck!" Minghao yelled, head bobbing down and into the water from Soonyoung's added weight, Mingyu flailing with him. He'd gotten even better at profanity now, Soonyoung mused, a far cry from the freshman that refused to speak to anyone except Junhui in his first few months in Seoul. "If you two don't let me go,_ I'm _gonna drown_ everyone _!"_

_"Noooo," Mingyu whined. "Soonyoung-hyung, leave us alone!"_

__Never _. Soonyoung would have opened his mouth to bark out, but he'd lost his grip on Minghao through the chaos; he fell back, weighed down by the water and his uncooperative limbs, and he wondered, briefly, if he could still float, even as panic started to set in and seize his throat. And through it all, Minghao was yelling and Mingyu was clinging and Seokmin_ wouldn't stop laughing _and oh fucking god were those white spots in his eyes heaven, was he_ dying _before he'd even lost his v-card, what the_ FUCK _—_

_He heard something solid dive in somewhere near Soonyoung, the sound of it thundering, echoing in the sudden silence, and Soonyoung felt a pair of hands pull him up from the water, a familiar ghost._

_It was only later that he'd reflect that he'd known what those hands felt like, known the grip of it, the weight. The calloused skin, the veins, the sharp curve of bone along his knuckles, its ridges. A smoother palm, padded by fat instead of muscle, now, but still — he'd known._

_And when he opened his eyes, he'd seen him, then — hair a soggy mess, sticking to his forehead and nape, his skin gleaming under the bright fluorescent lights and eyelashes beaded with droplets that Soonyoung wanted to brush away._

_"Fuck," said Wonwoo, "what are you idiots doing _here_ at this time of the night?"_

_"I love you," he would have said, in a different time, a different place. He'd rehearsed it in his mind, over and over, said it to a different Wonwoo enough times that it should have been the first thing on the tip of his tongue, waiting. Ready._

_Instead, he held onto Wonwoo, teeth clacking and body shivering in his T-shirt and shorts, and he'd blurted out, very eloquently, "It's all Mingyu's fault, not me!"_

_"Hyung!" Mingyu squawked, betrayed._

_"He let us in with a key," Soonyoung lied. "I told him it was stupid." More lies, but whatever. First impressions mattered, especially when it came to the literal guy of his dreams._

_He tried to come closer to Wonwoo, tried to cling to him in a way that didn't speak volumes about how his bodily fluids were probably 90% alcohol at this point and was totally a check mark in the Handbook of Flirting (Soonyoung should know, he's devoured all of his sister's Cosmo magazines enough to memorize all those tips). Wonwoo, though, didn't seem to get the message that they were Meant to Be and this was Soonyoung's complex courtship rituals at play._

_"I bet you did," said Wonwoo, and Soonyoung scrunched his face up. What was Wonwoo doing, still talking? He should be making out with Soonyoung at this point, not looking pissed off as he tried to drag them out of the water. God. Soonyoung's future husband was an idiot._

_"Aren't you gonna give me CPR?" Soonyoung said, curling up on his side when Wonwoo set him down none-too-gently on the floor with a shove._

_"You're not drowning," said Wonwoo. Soonyoung looked at the pool again, and was about to crawl back to the water but Wonwoo's grip on the nape of his neck was tight, near-bruising. "That wasn't a suggestion."_

_"Oh," said Soonyoung. He mulled over his words, and then looked up at Wonwoo through his lashes. "Are you gonna take me home now?"_

_Wonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked even more irritated. Soonyoung felt his stomach swoop, and not in the happy, bubbly way it did when he first saw Wonwoo._ Wrong, _he thought. Everything's wrong wrong wrongwrongwro—_

_"Do I even have a choice?" Wonwoo asked._

_Soonyoung didn't answer. Wonwoo wasn't waiting for one, either._

_In retrospect, it could have gone better._

 

 

Soonyoung doesn't hate Wonwoo.

Hate isn't the word he thinks of, when he wakes up in a bed that isn't his own every time he dreams. Soonyoung loves Wonwoo in the future, the one who coaxes him to breakfast with sticky-sweet words and kisses that make his stomach swoop, aflutter, the same one that only exists in the realm of possibility even as Soonyoung tries to steel himself for the increasingly higher chance that it's never gonna happen.

Soonyoung's tried asking Wonwoo, once, if he has any siblings, maybe a long-lost identical twin, but all Soonyoung's gotten out of him is a confused, suspicious 'why', and the knowledge that he has a younger brother that vaguely resembles him, but not enough for Soonyoung to hope.

He's read off the internet that there are approximately seven people in the world that look like each other, and he's wondered, time and again, if his dreams are about Wonwoo's lookalike. Or maybe he's projecting _his_ own lookalike that will probably end up getting hitched and having (fantastic) sex with the worst possible husband material for Soonyoung. He doesn’t really know what to feel about that line of thought.

Still, he loves the thirty-something Wonwoo with a fierceness that aches and makes whatever ill feelings he has towards the Wonwoo in his time come up inadequate. Call it imprinting, call it loyalty, call it being an idiot — he's heard it all. And It's not that he hates Wonwoo, no. It's just that — 

He doesn't care about the Wonwoo now _at all_.

Soonyoung's great at compartmentalization — he _has_ to be. Once you meet the person who's the stuff of your wet dreams since thirteen years old and your abstract fantasies of a happy ever after since then, you kind of have to be, especially when expectations don't quite match up to reality. Back then, he used to make girls cry when they'd wanted to play house and he'd insisted he couldn't be their husband, not when _he_ had Wonwoo. In junior high, he'd dumped all the letters in his shoe locker straight into the trash without even reading a single word off of them, much to his friends' eternal bemoaning and confusion. He practically _saved_ himself all throughout the clusterfuck of teenage hormones called high school, if only for Wonwoo.

If he'd known he would have felt anything _but_ love for Wonwoo at first sight, he would have gone through all the fake marriages, the first fumbling kisses, the drunken one-night stands, _everything_. He would have thrown himself into all the relationships he could have (should have) had a long time ago.

He looks at Wonwoo getting hit on by one of Hansol's friends on his way to the bathroom, and purses his lips into a straight line.

"I'm getting drunk tonight," he muses out loud, and turns around to make a beeline for the nearest cooler for a beer.

 

 

_He thought of apologizing. Really, he did._

_The apology, though, was second tier in comparison to his agenda of making Wonwoo reciprocate his massive hard-on for him how many years into the future. He was all ready for it, pestering Mingyu for Wonwoo's list of classes ("You're so creepy, hyung, what the fuck—" "Say that to my face when you didn't steal Minghao's number from my phone, hypocrite.") and heading over a day after their less-than-stellar first meeting determined to make Wonwoo magically fall in love with him so they could get a move-on with being disgustingly domestic and adopting 2.5 kids and a dog. He'd even painstakingly made (read: nagged Mingyu and Seokmin to do it) hot chocolate and put it in the fanciest damn thermos he could find (Jihoon's). If Wonwoo wasn't gonna get attacked by feelings from this, Soonyoung didn't know what could._

_It turned out, Wonwoo_ did _feel attacked, but not exactly in the way Soonyoung had in mind._

_"Oh my god," said Jeon Wonwoo as he stepped out of his Bio class, "are you stalking me?"_

_"No!" Soonyoung squawked, nearly dislodging the drink in his hand. "Uh, I mean." He fidgeted in place, feeling the tips of his ears heat up. "Mingyu told me you were here."_

_Wonwoo stared at him. "Isn't that basically stalking?"_

_Apparently, Wonwoo wasn't going to make this as painless and smooth-sailing as Soonyoung thought. Any other person, and Soonyoung would have already dropped his practiced smile and mouthed off, but he had to remind himself that this was Jeon Wonwoo, future husband, love of his life, bearer of all godly back rubs and massages and bringer of infinite orgasms that kept his limbs shaking with aftershocks even after he woke up from one of his visions_. God, grant me patience, _he thought, gritting his teeth._

_"I brought you something to drink," said Soonyoung. "For. You know. Practically saving my life."_

_"Hmm," said Wonwoo, looking at the thermos in Soonyoung's hand like he was expecting it to bite his fingers. "Is that coffee?"_

_"Hot chocolate," said Soonyoung, puffing out his chest. "Caffeinated, though."_

This is it, _Soonyoung thought. This is the part where Wonwoo swoons into his arms and offers him a hundred blowjobs for being the Best Boyfriend Material Ever, and then he and Wonwoo were going to go on sickeningly sweet dates together and he could forget their disastrous first meeting ever happened and he could—_

_"No thanks," said Wonwoo, wrinkling his nose. "I hate sweet things."_

_— throw the drink into Wonwoo's face, is what he was saying._

__Liar, you always make hot chocolate for both of us _, he thought, glaring at Wonwoo's shoulder. The Wonwoo he knew loved to stay in bed with a book in hand and a mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table, taking sips in between reading out loud to Soonyoung. Soonyoung would curl up on Wonwoo's lap, half-dozing as Wonwoo carded through his hair with his fingers, working out the knots and the bedhead, stopping only when he turned the page._

_He could already see that image of Wonwoo in his mind fracturing, splintering. The Wonwoo in his head — his Wonwoo — was always gentle, always kind. Soft._

_This one, though, was just an asshole._

_Out of all the things he'd imagined Wonwoo to be, being a jerkface wasn't one of them, and part of him wanted to cry at the injustice. A bigger part just wanted to give up and go home, never mind that Wonwoo had a face that looked straight out of an idol band, or that the sight of him in glasses made Soonyoung want to kiss him so hard he looked anything but proper. This wasn't…_

_He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough he could feel the skin crack. He tasted copper on his tongue, bitter. Sour._

_This wasn't how this was supposed to go._

_"Oh," said Soonyoung, flatly. He looked at the thermos in his hand, and hid it behind his back. His head. It was starting to hurt with a vengeance. "Never mind, then."_

_Wonwoo didn't look too affected, like he hadn't just shattered Soonyoung's dreams with a few choice words, and then some more. Because, apparently, this Wonwoo was nothing like the Wonwoo in Soonyoung's head. Because he didn't seem to know how to be anything but unkind._

_Wonwoo rubbed at his forehead, grimacing like_ he _was the one in pain. "Use it to cure that hangover," said Wonwoo, sighing. "Maybe then you'd make better decisions in your spare time."_

Yeah, _Soonyoung decided, watching Wonwoo walk away. He threw the contents of the tumbler into the nearest water fountain and watched it all go down the drain_. What a fucking jackass.


	3. Chapter 3

For the rest of the hour, Soonyoung hides out in the balcony, away from the noise and laughter. A few years ago, Soonyoung would have been caught in the thick of it, reveling in the attention; now, he just wants the earth to swallow him up, ready to crawl back home and nurse his residual bitterness with the rest of the alcohol in his apartment and the comfort of his blankets.

It's quiet here, gives him space to think— that's all Soonyoung's been doing in the past year really, besides avoiding anyone and everyone remotely connected to Wonwoo. He couldn't really avoid Junhui at work, though, but it's not like Junhui's the type to probe when Soonyoung doesn't want to talk, and anyway he and Minghao already argue in hushed half-whispers when they think he isn't listening. He knows everyone talks about it, except for him and Wonwoo.

It's— whatever. As far as Wonwoo's concerned, Soonyoung's probably just this annoying blip in his existence, an inconvenience at worse, someone to tolerate at best. And Soonyoung's track record with not fucking things up in front of Wonwoo hasn't been all that great either, not with friends like the ones he has. He should know. This _thing_ with Wonwoo's been part of the rumor mill for years, gossip fodder for anyone who's known them since uni. It's as much a part of Soonyoung's embarrassing past as it is Wonwoo's constant irritation at Soonyoung.

Distance is good, though. He scratches at the worn out fabric across his knees, rubbing at it until his skin aches. It's been a few months since he's last seen Wonwoo, and, well. Wonwoo hasn't said anything to him yet about the circumstances of their last meeting, even if he's been dreading it since he'd accepted Seokmin's invitation. Then again, it's precisely why he's even hell-bent on avoiding Wonwoo if he can. The less said about it, the better.

Soonyoung's never claimed to not be a coward. 

He sighs, the sound of it long and drawn-out, feeling as heavy as the slouch in his shoulders when he leans forward, glaring down at the city below the railing. At this rate, he's starting to sound more and more like Wonwoo, who's always been the least funny and entertaining person in Soonyoung's social circle, no matter how far out into the periphery of it he is. The thought of being anything like Wonwoo is already way too depressing to think about, and it sucks.

It's all his fault anyway, Soonyoung thinks, darkly. Him and his stupid face and his _impossible_ hypothetical future that Soonyoung's already resigned himself to _never_ having, because god forbid he even makes the same shitty mistake _twice_. Soonyoung's made a lot of bad decisions in the past year, and a lot of them have to do with Wonwoo. He knows enough to be able to recognize a pattern.

It's fucking annoying. He covers his face with his hands and groans.

The glass doors behind him slide open, and he almost tumbles forward in his surprise. He hears a mangled curse, right as a pair of arms encircle his chest, pulling him back from maybe falling off and proving all of his future visions wrong in the span of a second (ha, ha, _ha_ ). What a way to go.

Soonyoung doesn't even have to look behind him to know who it is. The grip around his body tightens, for a fraction of a second, before pushing him away from the edge of the railing.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" Wonwoo demands. There's an edge to his voice, something dark. Panicked.

If Soonyoung tries to imagine it, he could probably trace some concern. But then again, it's always been in his head. Always, always projecting, just like Wonwoo keeps saying he does a lot.

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought of Wonwoo caring past the bare minimum, after all. It wouldn't do to even keep his hopes up, because the minute he does, that's when things start to get hazy, out of control. That's when he makes all the really bad decisions he never should have—

 _Stop_ , he thinks, hoping the anxiety doesn't bleed into his face. _Just stop it_.

The corner of Wonwoo's lip curls, upwards, but there's nothing soft about it, nothing pleasant. "Soonyoung?"

He looks at his nails, not saying anything.

"What?" Wonwoo says. Whatever feeling had been in his tone earlier, it's gone now, settling into something safer. More bite than anything else. "Back in delulu land again, were you?"

The teasing lilt in it should be familiar and easy to mold into his own form, but it just makes Soonyoung feel prickly all over, rubbed raw.

"Leave me alone," Soonyoung snaps. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Flirting's boring when it's pointless," says Wonwoo. Soonyoung tries to steel his expression into indifference, but from the smug look on Wonwoo's face, he knows he's failed. "What, are you jealous now?"

Soonyoung feels the set of his jaw harden, just as quickly as the fury and the embarrassment that rushes through his cheeks and down to his nape in a red flush. "Fuck off."

He doesn't even have to confirm or deny anything; Wonwoo already knows it, and Soonyoung doesn't even have to be transparent about it for him to just _get it_. He wonders if, under all the shame and anger, Wonwoo can feel it: that clenching in his insides, raw, aching. Whatever small, sad thing Soonyoung's cradled in his chest since he's met Wonwoo, locked up tight.

He wonders if it makes Wonwoo feel like it's hard to breathe when he looks at him, too. If it's what makes the farce of a smile on his face drop, just as quickly as it comes.

"It's funny," says Wonwoo, even if he sounds anything but amused. "I thought you were the one who said nothing had to change."

And that was the problem, wasn't it?

"Yeah, well," says Soonyoung, shoving his hands into his pockets. He can still taste the salt on Wonwoo's skin, on the tip of his tongue. He wants to wash it out. "Nothing did. You're still an asshole, aren't you?"

"And you're still an idiot," says Wonwoo. He steps closer. One. Two. Reaches out to touch Soonyoung's arm, and Soonyoung—

("Please," Soonyoung had said— whimpered, right into the nape of Wonwoo's skin. "Just let me have this. Nothing has to change. _Nothing_."

That's what people do, when they get desperate. They learn how to lie.)

— flinches. Wonwoo's fingers retreat, like they've been burned.

"I know," says Soonyoung, swallowing down the rest of his retort. "You don't have to tell me that."

He shoulders his way past Wonwoo, the force of it surprising even himself; it's easier than he remembers, to push Wonwoo aside. Harder, still, to keep from looking back.

"You shouldn't spend so much time daydreaming, Soonyoung," Wonwoo calls out to him. "You'll have to come back to reality with the rest of us mortals at some point."

"Bite me," Soonyoung snaps, and slams the door behind him loud enough even the noise inside couldn't drown it out.

 

 

_It only took a week for the rumor to start._

_The thing was, Soonyoung couldn't exactly refute it, not when it's real. He knew that people always talked about him, about how he can see the future, about how he just knows things he shouldn't. A producer once called him up when he was younger, asking if he was interested in making it big in television, but there's no rhyme or reason to his visions, no way of knowing when it starts and ends._

_He also knew exactly what they were saying about him, now. About how he met the literal guy of his dreams and now he wasn't going to stop at anything to get him. About how Soonyoung was a weirdo that should be kept in a straightjacket and Wonwoo the poor victim of circumstance and the ramblings of a madman._

_"What?" He'd barked at a wide-eyed group of passersby that had watched his entire exchange with Wonwoo. "Never seen anyone get dumped by their future ex-husband before?"_

_Soonyoung knew what it sounded like, to Wonwoo. To anyone, really. The rational part of him figured that Wonwoo probably already chalked him up to a stalker, or worse, a delusional idiot. If he were Wonwoo, he'd think Soonyoung were fucking crazy, too. So Soonyoung figured he'd take it slow, bide his time. If he and Wonwoo were fated to bump uglies with each other at some point, he'd take whatever destiny had in store for him, one at a time._

_Too bad the rumor mill wasn't as patient._

_"I heard he proposed to Wonwoo-sshi with a diamond ring," said a girl in his econ class, whispering only a few seats behind him while they were waiting for the professor to arrive. "And then he got rejected right after that."_

_"_ I _heard he keeps following him around every day," said another. "He's such a creep."_

_"Christ," said Jihoon, right beside Soonyoung, who was more than ready for the earth to swallow him up at this point. "Doesn't anybody even listen in class anymore?"_

_"Is this how it feels to be naked in public," said Soonyoung, shrinking into his seat. "Because I've just decided I don't have an exhibitionist streak, and I don't like it."_

_"There, there," said Junhui, patting his shoulder from his seat behind Soonyoung. "It'll blow over eventually. Just wait until the next party when some freshman gets shitfaced drunk."_

_"I should have cut class today," said Soonyoung. He turned around to catch the eye of the gossips, and they just stared back at him with wide eyes. "Do they even_ know _my name?"_

 _"Nah," said Jihoon. Soonyoung covered his face with his hands and tried not to wail. "Everyone just calls you Jeon Wonwoo's stalker by now. You_ really _should have thought about being more discreet, especially if you were going to suddenly decide you were in love with one of the most popular people in the Psych department."_

 _"How was I even supposed to know who he_ was _," Soonyoung moaned into his palms. "It's not my fault I didn't know the man of my dreams was gonna be Mr. Fucking Popular."_

_"With that face?" Jihoon scoffed, sounding absolutely unconvinced. "Really?"_

_"Okay," said Soonyoung, after a moment. "I take it back. His face is too good-looking and I'm an idiot."_

_"If it's any consolation, I know at least five people that think it's romantic," said Junhui. "Seokmin seems to think so, too." He paused. "Though I think there are a dozen others who just think Wonwoo should get a restraining order against you."_

_"I'm gonna kill Seokmin," Soonyoung decides, after a moment. "I don't know how or why, but I have a feeling it's all because of his big fucking mouth."_

_"Well, to be fair, you_ were _an inconsolable mess last Friday," said Jihoon. "I wouldn't blame Seokmin for jumping to conclusions."_

 _"I wasn't—" Soonyoung exhaled, and closed his eyes. The pounding in his head was getting worse. He'd gone back to his dorm room after the run-in with Wonwoo intent on forgetting all about his embarrassment with cheesy noontime dramas, but he'd run out of tissues half-way and had been forced to knock on Seokmin's door for more. In retrospect, that was probably not his brightest idea, ever. "I was watching a drama! Of course I was gonna cry!"_

_"He probably thought you were grieving over your nonexistent love life," said Junhui, looking at him pityingly. "And then Seokmin told Mingyu, who told Minghao, who told Seungkwan, who—"_

_"Broadcasted it to the whole world, no doubt," Jihoon supplied unhelpfully, completely unconcerned at Soonyoung's social life getting decimated by the minute. "Congratulations. You're a legend now."_

_"For what?" Soonyoung asked, already dreading the answer. "For having a bleeding heart?"_

_"For being another notch on Wonwoo's list of broken hearts," Jihoon scoffed, lips pursed. "I don't think he's ever given_ anyone _the time of day, ever."_

 _"Great," said Soonyoung. "First he had to be hot, then he had to be a jerk. And now you're telling me he's_ frigid _?" He buried his face against the surface of his desk. "I'm gonna die a virgin at this rate."_

 _"Because of course_ that's _the only thing that matters," said Jihoon, sarcasm dripping in his tone. Soonyoung reached over to swat at him, but Jihoon just ducked. "Relax, drama queen. It'll blow over eventually. This isn't the first time he's rejected anyone, you know."_

 __And it definitely won't be the last _, Soonyoung filled in the gaps, just as the room quieted down when the professor walked in. That should have been enough of a warning, but Soonyoung had never been good at listening to anyone to begin with._

_And, well. It wasn't like Wonwoo made it any easier to take his mind off of him. Wonwoo had always been pretty hard to forget, after all._

 

 

Soonyoung's maybe on his third can of beer by the time Minghao finds him in the bathroom, huddled in the tub with the shower curtain covering his still-clothed body.

"Oh thank god," says Minghao, checking him over for any signs of reckless behavior, like he doesn't trust Soonyoung by himself, if at all. Jerk. "You're still alive."

"I know I'm the light of your life, but no need to get excited," says Soonyoung, loftily. Minghao grabs onto him, and Soonyoung yelps as he gets dragged out without preamble. "Minghao, what the fuck—"

"I heard you were about to fall off my balcony," says Minghao, keeping his grip on Soonyoung's arm so tight it feels like Soonyoung's skin is about to blister and bleed. Soonyoung tries to pull away, wincing, but Minghao's stronger than he looks despite being all skin and bones.

"I wasn't gonna jump," says Soonyoung, surly. "Wonwoo's a fucking liar."

"Oh, so you're talking to him now?" Minghao asks. Soonyoung shuts his mouth. "Well, whatever. What's done is done. Since you're not looking at him like you want to blow him every time he says something stupid, I'm guessing it didn't go well."

"Bet you're super happy about that," Soonyoung mutters.

Minghao, with no trace of shame, just shrugs. "Never said I wasn't."

"If it makes you feel better, I can safely say that I'm never gonna marry him at this rate, and I really don't give a damn," says Soonyoung. "So you can stop looking at me like I'm a poor puppy stuck in the rain and make yourself useful by getting me another drink and an Uber home."

"No more drinks unless it's water," Minghao decides, from the way Soonyoung staggers in place as he tries to stand up. "And you're staying here for the night. I'm not gonna risk you throwing up all over the backseat of someone else's car and having to fork over thousands of won just to get that mess cleaned up."

"I've only done that once," Soonyoung croaks out. "It was in the back of Wonwoo's car last year. Aren't you proud of me?"

"Very," says Minghao, patting his cheek in what Soonyoung thinks is a patronizing way, but doesn't really register. The way Minghao touches his face feels a lot like when Wonwoo cupped his cheeks in his palms months ago, thumb stroking the corner of his spit-stained mouth. Wonwoo was gentle at times when Soonyoung didn't expect him to be, and a walking cactus the rest of the time. It was why he'd figured out so early on that he and Wonwoo, they weren't going to last.

 _It's done_ , he thinks, that sad ghost in his chest heaving. _We're done_.

"Why do you look like you're going to cry on me or puke," Minghao says, thumb digging into his cheek. Blunt words, soft touches. Soonyoung's never going to get used to the reminder of it.

"Awww," Soonyoung coos, ruffling Minghao's hair. "You're worried about me, aren't you?" Minghao's lip curls, and Soonyoung flutters his eyelashes, just to be a pain. "Are you falling in love with me now, Xu Minghao?"

"Oh my god, no I'm not, get away from me," Minghao despairs, an edge of panic in his voice.

It doesn't stop Soonyoung from planting a kiss to the top of his head, even as Minghao squawks. He keeps his arms locked tight around Minghao, never letting go through the struggle to contain him.

"You know," says Soonyoung, closing his eyes, "I used to hold him like this too, before he broke my heart."

Minghao hesitates, and quiets down.

"Which one?" He asks, instead of _who_. He doesn't need to ask.

Even now, Soonyoung finds he doesn't know which Wonwoo he's talking about. If he's even talking about one or the other at all.

"I don't know," he says, honestly.

It's just always been Wonwoo, that's all.

 

 

_He couldn't avoid Wonwoo forever._

_Soonyoung thought it would be easy; it was a big university, they were in different courses and classes, and he'd spent a couple of years not even bumping into him once. He figured that he just needed to hang out at less parties with Mingyu or anyone else on the swim team, and that would be that, the rumors quieting down as quickly as they came._

_He didn't really count on the world being smaller than he expected it to be, or fate being the biggest bitch alive._

_"Oh my god," said Soonyoung, stopping in his tracks right before he walked into the café where he was meeting Seungcheol and Jihoon. Behind him, Seungkwan squawked, right as he bumped into Soonyoung's back. "What is_ he _doing here?"_

_"Who?" Hansol asked, sounding as confused as Soonyoung felt. He squinted as he peeked inside, and then brightened up. "Wonwoo-hyung? He's Bohyuk's brother. He's cool."_

_"Fuck," Soonyoung muttered, back sliding against the nearest wall until his butt firmly hit the concrete below them._ What the hell are you doing consorting with the enemy, traitor _, he texted Jihoon._

 _He watched Jihoon check his phone, and then look up with a smirk. Bastard probably planned this when he invited him over to grab brunch on Seungcheol's tab. Generosity wasn't a thing that existed in Jihoon's vocabulary,_ ever _._

 __I figured you needed a little help meeting the love of your life again _, he texted back. He_ definitely _planned this. Soonyoung was gonna kill him._

_"Hyung, everyone's staring at us," said Hansol, shuffling around in discomfort. "Can we go inside already? I'm hungry."_

_"Just leave me here to die," Soonyoung intoned. "I'd rather starve than enter hell."_

_"And you call_ me _dramatic," Seungkwan muttered. He yanked on the back of Soonyoung's hoodie, ignoring his yelp of pain. "Come on, you big baby. Time to make Seuncheol-hyung pay for everything."_

_"I don't wanna," Soonyoung moped. "Let's just go find something else to eat, okay? I'll even treat you guys to all the ramyun you want!"_

_"This place has the best muffins in existence, hyung," said Seungkwan. "Like hell we're gonna go for instant noodles with you."_

_"Don't worry, Soonyoung-hyung," said Hansol, laughing at Soonyoung's pain with a guiltless conscience. "The pastries will be worth it. Trust me."_

_From the look on Wonwoo's face when Soonyoung walked in, he decided: it was never going to be worth it._


	4. Chapter 4

When Soonyoung thinks long and hard about all the things that have gone wrong between him and Wonwoo, he can't really say if there's one particular moment that stands out. Like rising and waning tides, they've always been pushed and pulled by force; a wave that keeps crashing down and lapping at the shore, any warm feelings and memories over time like grains of sand and sediment, the casualties of the war.

There's nothing spectacularly life-changing or dramatic about it, though. Wonwoo's always been a bit of a bitter pill to swallow, and Soonyoung equally as difficult when Wonwoo gets a rise out of him. They're always either at each other's throats, or not at all.

At first, he'd felt guilty, ashamed of himself when he'd thought about it: how disappointed in him the Wonwoo in his future must have been. How long he'd lived with it until it got better. Or how this version of Wonwoo would take all their jagged edges and the way they just _didn't_ fit together to heart and carry it with him to the bitter end.

Is it really supposed to be difficult, to stay on-course? Is this how it's supposed to go? There are times when Soonyoung has to think, _really_ think about being more indulgent, more permissive with Wonwoo's jabs, his less-amiable sides, but it gets him nowhere, there. The visions, they just come and go as they please, with no guidance, no tell-tale sign everything is going according to plan.

There'd been a summer when he'd stopped dreaming about Wonwoo, point-blank, and it had been the longest summer in his life, waiting and waiting for sleep to come and his dreams to claim him. For thirty-something year old Wonwoo to look at him like the Wonwoo at present never did – couldn't have imagined doing. He'd felt nothing for Wonwoo, then, but anger. Anger and bitterness that tapered off into resignation, when he'd thought: _it's enough. This should be enough. I've lost him. It's done_.

He couldn't imagine, then, that Wonwoo could have hated him to the point that he'd put an end to it. But he couldn't imagine, either, that Wonwoo would learn to love him to the point that it could mean something.

It hadn't lasted long – even now, he still thinks about Wonwoo. The other one. Part of him thinks that maybe it isn't really a future that his mind is trying to tell him. Maybe it's just wishful thinking.

Maybe it's nothing.

Dreams, Soonyoung learns, are like little lies to yourself. You take it apart, piece by piece, and try to collect it in your memory. Then, when it doesn't quite fit reality, you try to rework it, reimagine it. Put it back together in all its jagged edges and mismatched shapes until it comes up to something close enough to what you see in your mind's eye.

Close enough doesn't mean it isn't inadequate, no. But he can pretend.

It's easier to just not think about it, after all.

 

 

_"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"_

_It was the first thing Wonwoo asked him, with no one else around. Seungcheol was at the counter with Hansol and Seungkwan, and Jihoon had fucked off elsewhere – ostensibly to his next class, but Soonyoung knew that asshole's schedule like the back of his hand and_ knew _he was full of shit when he made his excuses. Clearly, Jihoon just wanted him to suffer._

 _Still, it was an_ opportunity _, and Soonyoung was nothing if not opportunistic. If there was one thing Soonyoung didn't expect this Wonwoo to be, though, it was forward. From the things his friends had told him, Wonwoo was reticent, wary of strangers. By all rights, Soonyoung was a passing acquaintance at best, a weirdo stalker at worst, and Wonwoo could have just ignored him. That he could talk directly to Soonyoung, albeit with something in his tone that made Soonyoung feel like he was being made fun of – well. He'd been foolish to hope._

_"Like what?" Soonyoung blurted out. He tried to give Wonwoo a tentative smile, though from Wonwoo's raised eyebrow, he didn't look convinced of Soonyoung's harmlessness just yet._

_"Like that," said Wonwoo. He tapped the corner of his mouth, and Soonyoung suddenly felt lightheaded staring at his lips, like he couldn't breathe. Wonwoo was so, so handsome even now, and he looked exactly like he was a— "Like you always want to kiss me."_

_Jackass, Soonyoung decided. He looked exactly like a fucking douchebag through and through._

_"I don't," Soonyoung spluttered through the lie. Wonwoo rolled his eyes, and sat back in his chair, like he was satisfied with something. Soonyoung felt his face flush, his ears hot and red all over. His throat was locked, clogged up. He wanted to die, right then._

_"Thought so," said Wonwoo. "You're not very good at hiding things, you know." He took a sip of his coffee, black, unsweetened, probably just as dark as his soul. "One look at you and anyone can tell exactly what you're feeling, even when they don't want to see it."_

_A part of him wondered what, exactly, that was supposed to mean, but Wonwoo was already turning to him again and Soonyoung's tongue felt useless in his mouth, like lead._

_"What was your name again? Soonyoung?" Wonwoo asked, and Soonyoung stiffened in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek to keep some semblance of calm. "I'm Wonwoo, by the way, though you probably already knew that."_

__Yeah, I'm Kwon Soonyoung, and I dreamt about you when we were younger and always thought you'd be in love with me from the start _, Soonyoung thought of saying._ But then it turns out you're kind of a dick and I'm a bit of an asshole too, so maybe we should just forget about it and go find other people to hook up with, okay, bro? __

_"Who died and made you Kim Woo bin?" Was all he said instead, and that was the start and end of it._

_He threw a glass of water to Jeon Wonwoo's face, and it was so, so worth it._

 

 

"Jesus fucking _Christ_!"

Soonyoung grabs onto Minghao's shoulders, trying to keep himself upright. Minghao, the heartless little jerk, almost dislodges him on his way past the doorframe, and it's only by sheer force of willpower that Soonyoung manages to stay upright. Minghao just scoffs at him, one hand smacking his backside as he hefts him up higher, and Soonyoung would hit _him_ if he weren't hanging on for dear life.

"That's for being an attention whore," says Minghao, and Soonyoung scowls but doesn't say anything else. Minghao's hauling his ass to the spare bedroom, the one at the corner of the apartment that's far away enough from the living room to mute out the noise just so Soonyoung can sleep off yet another incoming headache. Soonyoung thinks it's going to be yet _another_ vision, but Minghao just thinks he's drunk off his ass.

To be honest, Soonyoung's not really drunk enough that it should be a cause for concern for Minghao just yet— he hasn't propositioned anyone in the past hour, after all, least of all Wonwoo, but Minghao probably wouldn't believe him. Soonyoung's not drunk _at all_ , though. He'd been sober when he kept his face pressed into the nape of Minghao's neck, as he'd tried to piggy back him on his way past Mingyu and Wonwoo hanging around the hallway. Sober, when he'd kissed the back of Minghao's ear and failed to dodge the swipe to his head in revenge. Sober enough, that he'd felt it, the weight of Wonwoo's eyes on his back the entire time.

Nothing. It means nothing at all.

A burn of irritation licks at his stomach, yet again. He doesn't know what Wonwoo's deal is, not when he'd made it perfectly clear months ago that his feelings towards Soonyoung barely went past antagonism at best, and vague indifference at worst. He didn't want to look at Soonyoung, then. It must have been a chore for him to have to see him now, too.

"Do you think you can maybe stop being a dick around your future ex-husband while I'm trying to walk in a straight line," Minghao wonders aloud, just as he wrenches the door to the guestroom open. "I mean, I kinda have to interact with him again at some point while you're sleeping your drunk ass off, thanks. I still wanna live."

"Hypothetical future ex-husband," says Soonyoung. "Provided one of us even becomes clinically insane enough to sign our names on the dotted line."

"Well, you haven't stopped dreaming about him yet, have you?" Soonyoung doesn't say anything. "I figured."

"You know, for someone so supportive about me hating his guts, you're starting to sound like you're strangely on his side," Soonyoung accuses.

"No, I just enjoy making fun of you more," says Minghao, dumping Soonyoung on the mattress unceremoniously and making Soonyoung squawk. "Hold on, lemme look for a blanket, grandpa."

"Whatever," Soonyoung huffs. "You can fuck back off to Mingyu and be awkward with Wonwoo, see if I care."

"I know you're self-absorbed and constantly projecting, but we’re actually not that awkward with each other," says Minghao, placidly, even as he throws a blanket at Soonyoung's face. "It only gets weird when you're around. You make him feel weird and out of sorts."

"I bet," says Soonyoung, voice muffled.

He feels rather than sees Minghao sit by the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "We're only awkward because _you_ made it awkward," says Minghao.

Soonyoung wrenches the blanket away from his face. "How is it _my_ fault?"

" _I_ didn't sleep with him and bail out, hyung," says Minghao, leveling him with a look. "You did."

He pulls the blanket back over his body and kicks at Minghao. "Shut up."

"So we're not talking about the reason why you disappeared on us every time we wanted you to come hang out?" Minghao says. "Okay then. Suit yourself. I'll leave you and your self-destructive tendencies alone." The weight on the mattress disappears, Minghao already on his feet. "Just tell me one thing, though."

"What?" Soonyoung groans.

"Was it worth it?" Minghao asks. _Did you find what you were looking for_ , Soonyoung reads between the lines.

"No," he decides, after a beat. "Not at all."

 

 

_Soonyoung knows he's dreaming when he opens his eyes and sees Wonwoo looming over him, one arm braced against the mattress as he uses the other to reach out and touch Soonyoung._

_"Are you okay?" Wonwoo asks. His brow is knitted, mouth a straight, firm line. There's no judgment in it, no prickling sense of irritation. Just the weight of concern in the pads of his fingers touching Soonyoung's brow is enough for Soonyoung to know it's not real, and it makes Soonyoung shiver._

_Soonyoung opens his mouth, but nothing comes out except a croak; the burn of alcohol's been replaced by a thick coating of bile in his throat, a muggy, heady sensation in his head like someone's covered a thin layer of plastic over his senses. He hears Wonwoo's sharp intake of breath, just as Wonwoo gathers him closer._

_"You're burning up," says Wonwoo. His hand is cool against Soonyoung's face, and Soonyoung whimpers, tucking his cheek closer. "I told you you should have waited for me instead of braving the storm without an umbrella."_

_It's good to know that even years later, Soonyoung's still an impatient idiot. He doesn't have to ask to know how it goes: Soonyoung must have been coming home from work or dinner elsewhere, got caught in the rain at some point, and ended up sopping wet at his – their – doorstep much later. Wonwoo must have nagged at him for tracking water all over, for being stubborn, for_ anything _, but Soonyoung can tell, from the bags under his eyes and the basin of water with the damp washcloth by the bedside table, that he probably hasn't gotten a lot of sleep, fussing over Soonyoung._

_The apology in Soonyoung's throat dies; it lingers and ends up choking him in between the sting in his chest, tight, constricting. Everything is so, so easy. But it's not real, and it makes him ache._

_"What is it?" Wonwoo asks. "Why do you keep looking at me like you want to cry?"_

_Because you keep looking at me like you really love me, Soonyoung thinks. Instead, he says, "You look like shit."_

_Wonwoo scoffs, but the smile is tired, uneasy. He pushes back Soonyoung's bangs, carefully. "You're not exactly Mr. Presentable yourself."_

_"If I look as gross as I feel, I'm not denying it," says Soonyoung. He slurs the words out a little, keeps it sparse, spaced out. Everything in him hurts, when he speaks, and not even Wonwoo can keep it at bay._

_Wonwoo seems to get it, though; he puts a finger against Soonyoung's lips, a warning._

_"You talk too much," says Wonwoo, without heat. "Shut up."_

_"Don't boss me around," says Soonyoung. "If I weren't an invalid I would have—"_

_Wonwoo doesn't let him finish. He covers Soonyoung's lips with his own, hushes him with the smallest of kisses that do nothing to sate the burning in Soonyoung's skin, sensitized._

_The kiss deepens, when Wonwoo angles his head to let his tongue coax Soonyoung's mouth open, just a bit more. In a different time, Wonwoo's teased him about being easily distracted, susceptible to physical nothings; he doesn't know that it's the intimacy that kills Soonyoung even as it lets a spark surge through Soonyoung's limbs, feelings on fire. It should cancel out the hurt, shouldn't it?_

_Shouldn't it?_

_Soonyoung jerks back, breaking away with his chest heaving, his mouth gasping for air. Wonwoo's eyes are hooded, his mouth slick with spit, bitten-red. He keeps looking at Soonyoung like he wants to wreck him, if he could._

_"You would have what?" Wonwoo teases, voice steady despite the rasp in his throat._

_"Nothing," says Soonyoung, flushing with embarrassment, now. The warmth of his face, he blames on the fever. He turns his back away from Wonwoo, burying himself under the comforter. "I'm sick, pervert."_

_Wonwoo laughs and inches closer, until Soonyoung can feel his lips press against Soonyoung's neck. "Never stopped you before," says Wonwoo. "Remember?"_

_"I wouldn't know," says Soonyoung, honestly. "I wasn't there."_

_"Liar," says Wonwoo. The curve of his mouth still feels like a smile, imprinted into Soonyoung's skin. "You and your selective memory."_

_("You and your selective memory," he remembers Wonwoo saying, at an earlier point of time. No fondness, no warmth, just exasperation, through and through. "Always when it's convenient for you, isn't it, Soonyoung?")_

_The fever abates, replaced with ice like a shock through his nerves. He wants to throw up._

_"You love me, though," he says, testing the words out and praying they come out more confident than he feels. He drags the comforter closer to press against his face, the sting of water betraying his eyes. "Don't you?"_

_If Wonwoo hears the waver in it, he doesn't say anything about it. He holds Soonyoung closer, and exhales into his skin._

_"Of course I do, stupid," says Wonwoo, mouthing at his nape. "I always do."_


	5. Chapter 5

It's the sound of the knob turning that brings Soonyoung back.

A slant of light creeps into the room, and Soonyoung brings his arm up to block out the brightness. There's little the body hovering by the doorway can do to filter it out, the muted sound of chatter and music in the distance an unwelcome intrusion. Still, he doesn't apologize; it's enough for Soonyoung to know exactly who it is.

It's strange. Back in uni, Wonwoo would have been the first one avoiding Soonyoung like a plague. They'd barely spoken, even, in the past few months, especially after the disastrous first few weeks of knowing each other's existence. Now, it's like Wonwoo's always there, hovering. Waiting. Like he's expecting something.

It leaves a bitter taste on Soonyoung's tongue.

He still feels tired, though, like he's still clammy and burning all over, ill. The thing about these dreams is that when he has them, it gets a little harder to adjust, to see how Wonwoo in the future bleeds into the present. It's only temporary, but that short amount of time -- it's enough for Soonyoung to crumble, to let himself sag into something soft, something weak. Vulnerable, and it's dangerous.

It's the only reason he chooses not to fight.

"Stop being a creeper," says Soonyoung, not lifting his hand from his face. The light shifts, the only sign Wonwoo's even moved, even just a bit. It makes Soonyoung want to close his eyes again and hide in his mind. "It doesn't suit you."

"Now you know how it feels," says Wonwoo, and Soonyoung has to crack a smile at that, even when there's nothing remotely funny about it.

It's an insult he's learned not to take to heart, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't make something in him ache. Wonwoo's always felt too little, said too much, and Soonyoung the opposite of it; it was never going to be easy, fitting together the way Wonwoo's hands cradled his knuckles, their fingers slotted together in lazy, uninterminable days that have yet to happen. He's not sure if they will.

Like, right now, he can't even imagine holding onto Wonwoo's hand like that, like it means something. He keeps his knuckles pressed against his eyes, still, even when his fingers are antsy, fidgety. The feel of Wonwoo's fingers pushing back his hair from his forehead lingers, like a ghost.

"What are you still doing here?" Soonyoung asks, voice muffled by his arm. "Weren't you going to crawl back to your cave before the last train?"

"I was," says Wonwoo. Soonyoung lifts his hand away to peer at Wonwoo, and it's true; Wonwoo's wearing his coat, now, the one that Soonyoung knows feels as soft as it looks. He'd worried, once, that if he'd kept it fisted tightly as he held onto Wonwoo's shoulders, then maybe he'd ruin the fabric enough to leave something more permanent. That he could make Wonwoo come undone the way he could, years later, as Wonwoo panted into his mouth and breathed out his name.

It hasn't, though. Shame.

"You should go," Soonyoung tells him. "You'll have to take a cab, if you stay here longer."

Wonwoo leans against the doorframe, and once upon a time it would have looked intimidating to Soonyoung, watching him like this, but now it just makes Soonyoung think about the space between them. How he can't cross it. How Wonwoo looks so alone. "What about you, then?" He asks, hands shoved into his coat pockets. "How are you going to get home?"

Soonyoung thinks about the distance between their apartments, how they've always been on opposite sides of the train routes and still meeting in the middle every time, back when Soonyoung was so sure he could salvage it. So sure there was still something there. It's no coincidence. "What's it to you?"

"What?" Wonwoo cracks a smile, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Can't I be worried about you now?"

A flare of anger lights up in Soonyoung's stomach, cresting at the lie. Cold comforts, Soonyoung's tired of them, and when Wonwoo looks at him like this, like he's _pitying_ him --

He doesn't want it.

"Don't," Soonyoung warns. He bites the inside of his cheek, wishing the mattress could just swallow him whole. "Don't do that."

Wonwoo straightens up at the command, none of the lazy slouch in his posture present. He narrows his eyes at Soonyoung, and when he speaks, there's a challenge in his tone. Stubborn.

"Don't do what?" Wonwoo asks.

("Don't look at me like that," Soonyoung whines into the crook of Wonwoo's neck and shoulder, just as Wonwoo fucks him against the door to his bedroom, thrusts uneven and disjointed against the staccato hammering of Soonyoung's heartbeat. "Don't--")

"Pretend like you care," says Soonyoung. It's almost embarrassing how choked up he sounds. "It's been _months_ , Wonwoo. Just stop."

"Stop putting words into my mouth, then," says Wonwoo. He's got his arms crossed now, shoulders stiff; it reminds Soonyoung vaguely of the cat he'd kept in secret in his dorm room, feeding it scraps and treats for months until it had left him before graduation, like it had known. Soonyoung hasn't bothered to feed another stray since then.

it's not hard to, though -- to articulate things for Wonwoo instead, he means. Wonwoo thinks that he's good at keeping things covered up, but he's not; Soonyoung can read his displeasure like the back of his own hand, what with how many times he's seen it. Between the two of them, it's Wonwoo that's supposed to be more attuned to other people's emotions, more sensitive, but Soonyoung's had the luxury of time and unmet expectations. It's no contest.

When Soonyoung doesn't say anything, Wonwoo opens the door wider, and Soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut at the light. His fingers curl into his palm, twitching. "Please," Soonyoung begs. He doesn't know what he means anymore, not at this rate.

Neither does Wonwoo. "I don't know what you want from me," he hears Wonwoo say, dripping frustration at turns. "How am I supposed to know what you're thinking when you don't tell me a damn thing?"

Wonwoo huffs out a sigh, and Soonyoung doesn't have to see him to know he has his hands fisted at his sides, clenched. Wonwoo's not -- he's never been one to stay still for so long, and Soonyoung knows it's only a matter of time before he gives up. _I wanted a lot of things_ , is Soonyoung's first thought. _I thought I wanted you, but I don't_ , is another. _If both of you were the same, you should know._

The reminder of it makes Soonyoung's throat feel like it's clogged up, choking. He misses that Wonwoo everyday. He misses him more, when this Wonwoo is around. It's not fair.

"Well?" Wonwoo asks. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

Soonyoung thinks, for a moment, about the differences, counts them one by one. How they're both honest, in ways that hurt Soonyoung. How their gazes are sharp, cutting, peeling him apart, layer by layer.

There's nothing else to say, and it frustrates him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, keep himself grounded here and not elsewhere. He channels that tiny, growing ball of frustration in his stomach into something more spiteful, pointed. Enough for it to hurt like a tender, freshly opened wound.

He loves Wonwoo. (He doesn't.) He hates Wonwoo. (He does.)

Woodenly, he says, "No hard feelings, remember?" He doesn't -- can't -- look at Wonwoo.

("Cat got your tongue?" Wonwoo asks him, more warmth than a fierce heat in his voice, as he cradles Soonyoung's cheek into his palm, keeping him pinned to the wall. Soonyoung groans and pulls him closer, pressing deeper, asking for more, more, _more_. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought this wasn't your first time, Soonyoung-ah.")

And that ball turns solid, a stone in his stomach. Final.

It takes a beat for Wonwoo to answer, and when he does, it makes something in Soonyoung settle, disquieted. Soonyoung knows he doesn't need to say anything; Wonwoo's probably already felt it, if he cares to notice.

"Yeah," says Wonwoo, flatly, and it's enough for Soonyoung to know he's gotten the message loud and clear. "I know."

The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and Wonwoo's gone as quickly as he came. Like he's never been there at all.

It's dark again, inside.

 

 

_"You're so fucking hot when you're not being annoying."_

_Soonyoung didn't know what he was doing here, inside Wonwoo's apartment. One minute, they were at a bar, trading barbs at each other in between sips of tequila, and the next Wonwoo was looking at him like he wanted to maybe shut him up with his mouth, and then some. Soonyoung didn't understand it either._

_It hadn't even been a few weeks since they'd last seen each other, when Soonyoung had thrown a drink in Wonwoo's face without warning. When Soonyoung had shown up to Mingyu's birthday celebration, Wonwoo had looked at Soonyoung warily and asked him if he was planning on letting his alcohol touch anything else other than his mouth. Soonyoung had waggled his fingers at him, the barest hint of a threat, and it had been easy to just joke around, then._

_Easy enough that he'd thought, once or twice, that maybe Wonwoo wasn't so bad. That maybe he was just really bad at being friendly, and it was Soonyoung's personal mission to remove that stick up his ass in the course of true love._

_Wonwoo was funny, in a depressing sort of way, his humor one that needed some time to get used to. When he'd slipped past sober and into intoxicated territory, he had a lopsided smile that reminded Soonyoung of late mornings and slow kisses, cups of coffee long gone cold on the bedside table. His fingers, they were restless, constantly touching things like the countertop, the rim of his glass. The edge of his stool. Soonyoung's knee. His thigh. The small of his back._

_This Wonwoo -- it was familiar. His mouth, red and suggestive, felt like a promise, then._

_It was the only reason Soonyoung let him come close enough to whisper against the shell of his ear, five shots in, if he wanted to get out of watching their friends get shitfaced drunk and have a little fun of their own. Fifteen year old Soonyoung would have creamed his pants, then and there. In his twenties, Soonyoung knew better, but still. It didn't lessen the tight knot of arousal in his stomach at all._

_So he said yes._

_The cab ride from Hongdae to Wonwoo's place had been a hazy blur, but Soonyoung had spent most of it just staring outside the window, trying not to look as anxious as he felt. He didn't dare look at Wonwoo, then, but he wondered if Wonwoo felt it too, the undercurrent of tension between them, swallowing all the butterflies in Soonyoung's stomach. If Wonwoo knew he wanted to kiss him badly he could hurl._

_He wondered if he'd dreamt about this, before. If this meant that they were on the right track. But whatever train of thought he'd had, then, was cut off by Wonwoo tugging him by the arm, pushing him forward until his knees hit the edge of Wonwoo's mattress and he had no choice but to let his back fall against the bed. He would have complained about it, if Wonwoo hadn't crouched over him and kissed him, then. He made a choked-off noise at the back of his throat and thought_ , yes.

_Kissing Wonwoo was like a battle; there was no softness in it, only heat. Wonwoo's mouth felt like it was trying to devour him, consume until he'd had nothing else left to take. Like he was trying to prove something to himself, and it was a challenge he was desperate to win._

_"Wait," Soonyoung gasped out, pulling back for air. Wonwoo's fingers, toying against the button of Soonyoung's pants, stilled. "What are you doing?"_

_Wonwoo laughed against his jaw, but it sounded anything but kind. "What does it look like?" He said, and his palm pressed down on Soonyoung's cloth-covered hard-on, making Soonyoung hiss. "Getting you off, genius."_

_"Aren't we going a little too fast?" Soonyoung asked, voice embarrassingly pitched high. Wonwoo was nosing at his ear, now, and the tiny bruise he was trying to suck into Soonyoung's neck was making Soonyoung feel a little dizzy._

_"Don't tell me you're a virgin," Wonwoo scoffed. Soonyoung stiffened, and Wonwoo pulled away, staring at him. "Oh my god, you really are one."_

And you aren't? _Soonyoung thought hysterically, almost churlish. He knew he shouldn't have expected Wonwoo to not be anything but experienced, especially when he knew next to nothing about Soonyoung's existence, but he'd been hoping -- just faintly -- that maybe Wonwoo could have waited for him too, the way Soonyoung waited for him his whole life._

_"I had very strict parents," was all Soonyoung's lame excuse was. Wonwoo didn't look like he believed him at all._

_"You regularly get drunk at parties and you indulge in antics that could get you suspended from school for juvenile delinquency," Wonwoo pointed out. "Somehow, I highly doubt that."_

_Soonyoung felt his cheeks flush red, and not from the alcohol or Wonwoo's proximity to his dick. "Well, I could have been waiting for the love of my life."_

_Wonwoo squinted down at him with a strange look in his eye. "And you think that's me?" He asked, brow knitted as he shifted away._

_It was at this point that Soonyoung could have laughed it off as a joke, maybe distracted Wonwoo with his clumsy fingers and equally clumsy mouth. The inexperience, he could have made up for with eagerness, and they could have just kissed all night until Soonyoung was wrung out, spent. It could have been a beginning._

_Because Soonyoung was an idiot, though, he just nodded._

_"I dreamt about you a lot when I was younger," he confessed, voice shaking. "It's why I knew who you were, when I first met you-- you were going to be important to me someday. I just_ knew _."_

_Wonwoo's face was blank, closed-off, any trace of amusement or warmth long since gone. The space between them felt like a chasm that Soonyoung wasn't sure he could cross, and it was then Soonyoung realized that he'd made a mistake. That maybe it would have been wiser to just keep his mouth shut._

_"You should go home," said Wonwoo. He pushed himself away from Soonyoung, and stuck close to the edge, like he couldn't wait to get away._

_"What?" Soonyoung asked, voice hushed. He wanted to press closer to Wonwoo, to hold him and tell him he didn't mean anything, not if it meant that Wonwoo couldn't even stand to be around him anymore. "Wonwoo, I--"_

_"I don't sleep with crazy people," said Wonwoo, shrugging. He didn't meet Soonyoung's eyes. "Sorry."_

_("You're a liar," he remembered a classmate in elementary shrieking, right when he'd warned him about a car accident involving his little brother, one he'd dreamed about incessantly since the week before. "Why would you say something that horrible to me?"_

_"I was just--"_

_"Stop making things up, Soonyoung," he said, biting, something more quelling than anger flashing in his eyes. "Go away. I don't wanna see your face anymore.")_

_"Okay," said Soonyoung, heart sinking. His skin felt clammy, numb all over. He couldn't believe it. It had almost been too easy -- almost, and yet--"Okay, I--" He bit his lip. "I'll see you around, some other time, okay, Wonwoo-yah?"_

_Wonwoo didn't respond. Soonyoung didn't stick around long enough to hear it, if he even did._

_He already knew what the answer was._

_(He never did see that boy again, after that.)_


	6. Chapter 6

It's the crick in Soonyoung's spine that wakes him up, the next morning.

Well, that and a muted buzzing sound in the distance accompanied by heavy breathing against his neck, someone else's snores muffled against his skin. For a moment, he almost thinks that he's dreaming, that this is one of those days where Wonwoo's convinced him to take a nap instead of doing something more productive on a weekend, or maybe this is an even more distant future where he's got an unruly kid clinging to his back. The trail of drool on his nape feels too real, though, and a quick glance behind him reveals Seungkwan's face, brow knitted in his sleep, round, ruddy cheeks left with pillow creases overnight.

Soonyoung pinches his cheeks, and only manages to get a disgruntled snort in response. Figures.

It takes him a while to pry himself out of Seungkwan's vice-grip; Seungkwan's arguably one of the most tactile people Soonyoung's ever known even without alcohol in his system, and the presence of it isn't really doing anything to lessen his ability to cling onto the nearest warm body like the cuddle monster he is. Soonyoung usually doesn't really mind it, not really, but the pounding in his head is telling him that he needs to crawl home and find some aspirin, preferably within the next couple of hours. Maybe he can get some caffeine inside his body, too, if only to feel a little more human and less like the cracked paint peeling on the ceiling.

But first. Breakfast.

He makes his way to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth with a toothpaste and his ring finger, because like hell is he going to use anyone else's toothbrush— who knows where their mouths have been? No matter how many times Minghao is firmly in denial about it, Soonyoung bets that it's been attached to Mingyu's dick at some point, and that _isn't_ convincing Soonyoung that the phrase sharing is caring is applicable in this case. _Ugh_.

He spits out the foam and tries to rinse his mouth to get rid of the disgusting aftertaste _that_ thought brings him more than the alcohol. The front of his shirt is practically drenched by now, but Soonyoung figures it'll dry out a little later, or he can just steal someone's clothes. This is exactly why he hates sleeping over other people's homes.

At least he's not alone in regretting everything about last night. He finds the rest of the apartment's occupants in various states of misery, Minghao picking up trash from the kitchen floor, muttering under his breath the entire time about useless roommates not taking full advantage of their powers. Seated on one of the stools is a semi-catatonic Hansol blinking blearily at his coffee and a platter of freshly-cooked meat. Mingyu, clad in a pastel yellow apron, is the only one that looks like he'd escaped the worse of yesterday unscathed, busy frying up eggs on the stove. The bastard is even _humming_. Soonyoung has half a mind to throw a piece of bacon at him, but he decides to pop it into his mouth instead.

Soonyoung's about to ask where Seokmin is, but a roaring noise that sounds like a vacuum starts up again from somewhere in the living room. Ah. So that explains the buzzing. He drags one of the spare stools by the counter over to scoot closer to Hansol, and tries to school his expression into one of intense disapproval and not. You know. Looking like death warmed over.

"Who thought it would be a good idea to put Seungkwan in the same bed as me?" He demands. Mingyu looks over at him from his shoulder, smirking, and Hansol hides his grin behind a sip of his coffee. "Do you guys want to give me nightmares?"

"Sorry, hyung," says Mingyu, sounding far from apologetic. Minghao doesn't even spare him the illusion of it and just raises his eyebrow at Soonyoung.

"Where else were we gonna put him?" Minghao asks, and from the tone of his voice, Soonyoung knows it's a rhetorical question. "He was going to puke all over our couch."

"And you put him beside _me_?"

Minghao doesn't even bat an eyelash, feeling no guilt whatsoever. "You were out like a light last night," he retorts. "Better _you_ than me." Minghao's blank expression soon turns coy, the glint in his eyes something Soonyoung's familiar enough with to know that nothing good will come out of it. "And anyway, this wouldn’t be the first time you woke up in bed with someone without remembering, is it?"

Soonyoung feels his ears prick up, even as they feel hot and flushed all over. He knows what Minghao's trying to insinuate, and he doesn't like it. "That was _one time_ , and it wasn't— stop smirking like that, you pervert! I don’t make it a habit of sleeping with friends, I'll have you know."

"Friends," Minghao scoffs. "Right."

Sometime in between all the bad decisions Soonyoung's been making in the past few years he's known Wonwoo, one of the things Minghao's witnessed firsthand isn't really anything interesting. They'd all been in a ski lodge together the winter break before Soonyoung and Wonwoo's graduation, and Soonyoung and Wonwoo had been in the den late into the night, Wonwoo reading in silence as Soonyoung scrolled through all the embarrassing photos in his camera feed, ostensibly for future blackmail purposes but really just to have an excuse to stay up with Wonwoo instead of crawling to his shared room with Minghao. When he'd woken up the next day, Minghao was looming over him with Soonyoung's phone in hand, poised to take a picture; it took an embarrassing minute before Soonyoung had enough semblance of mind to realize he'd been sleeping on Wonwoo's thigh the entire time.

In retrospect, it's tame as far as crazy college stories go, but it's not like Soonyoung's eager to share more than he absolutely has to, especially when there's _really_ nothing there. Minghao doesn't need to know all about how he and Wonwoo eventually transitioned from awkward acquiantances that almost slept together to tentative almost-friends that couldn't keep it in their pants even when they really should have. All that time Soonyoung had spent being desperate for a pity fuck— he thought he could have been something else, but reality doesn't work out that way, does it?

The reminder of Wonwoo almost sours his mood enough to put him off of the plate of scrambled eggs Mingyu hands over, but Soonyoung refuses to take the bait. At the end of the day, he and Wonwoo aren't friends— _can't be_ — and Minghao is just being an asshole because he's upset over getting stuck with afterparty cleaning duties.

As if sensing the downturn of his mood, Mingyu feeds him the fatty bits of bacon as a consolation, but it doesn't stop Soonyoung from contemplating his breakfast, subdued, almost sullen the rest of the time. He listens to Minghao and Mingyu bicker over whose turn it is to do a grocery run, and Seokmin joins them after setting aside the vacuum cleaner to pester _both_ of them into doing it, as long as they don't forget the dishwashing liquid this time.

Soonyoung's all but demolished the last bits on his plate by the time Seungkwan walks into the kitchen, yawning and scratching at his stomach all the while like a middle-aged man.

"What's for breakfast?" He asks.

"Nothing," says Minghao. "Freeloaders don't get fed, sorry."

"What about Soonyoung-hyung?" Seungkwan whines, pointing at his empty plate accusingly.

"If I had to suffer from your horrible sleeping habits, I think I deserve this," says Soonyoung, in his defense.

Seungkwan looks at MIngyu, beseeching. "Hyung," he says, pawing at his arm, but Mingyu just shoves him away with his foot.

"I'm not cooking again," says Mingyu, raising his hands defensively. "I've slaved over you assholes enough."

"Here," says Hansol, holding out a piece of bacon for Seungkwan, who grins and eats it triumphantly, even if he probably hasn't even gargled yet. Gross.

Seokmin ends up throwing together some fried rice for Seungkwan, if only to forestall his moping, and Seungkwan's resulting compliments with thinly-veiled jabs at the rest of them make everyone else groan. Minghao and Mingyu go back to trying to get the rest of the apartment back to some semblance of order while Seungkwan and Seokmin chatter on, even if Hansol's only half-listening in his concentration and Soonyoung has completely given up on pretending he's even trying to care.

It's only when they mention a name Soonyoung hasn't heard in a while that he zones back in, and it's funny how quickly his shoulders tense up at it. So much for not caring, he thinks, even as he tries not to fidget in his seat. "We're meeting up with Bohyuk later, probably for brunch," Hansol reminds Seungkwan, who's not even halfway done with breakfast. "He just woke up, so we probably have at least a couple of hours before he starts whining at us for not showing up."

"Plenty of time," says Seungkwan. He cracks his knuckles and stretches in place, preening like a self-satisfied cat. Soonyoung wants to hit him, sometimes. Or always. "I call dibs on the shower."

"You're not even done," Seokmin points out. "At least let hyung go first."

"Soonyoung-hyung takes _forever_ ," Seungkwan complains. "Well, not as bad as Jisoo-hyung, but remember that time he got one of his flashes while taking a bath and we thought he drowned in there? _Not_ an experience I'd like to relive any time soon, thanks."

Soonyoung kind of remembers that, from back when he'd still been living in the campus dorms. He'd been dreaming about Wonwoo fucking him in a private hot spring, and it had been _great_ , until he woke up to Seungkwan freaking out over him in the shower stalls, the hot water long since gone cold. Good times.

"I don't remember that one," Soonyoung lies. "Sounds exciting, though."

"We thought you were _dead_ ," says Seungkwan. "Even Bohyuk thought so, too." Cheeks stuffed with food, Seungkwan turns to Soonyoung. "You at least remember _him_ , don't you, hyung?"

Soonyoung thinks about a boy, about a little liar. He thinks about a warning, and more. Yeah, he remembers, stomach churning in mild discomfort. He knows exactly who Bohyuk is.

He remembers everything now, after all.

 

 

_It's raining outside._

_Soonyoung looks outside the window glumly, longing to do nothing more but stay inside and nap for the rest of the night. He'd been so ready to just send his parents a quick text message and change back into a pair of comfy shorts and a tank top, but one icy look from Wonwoo had him grudgingly buttoning up his polo shirt and suffering through the indignity of Wonwoo inspecting him from head to toe in their bedroom like they're going to one of those fancy-schmancy black tie events Wonwoo sometimes drags him to for work._

_He hates it._

_"I don't see why we have to go to a place that even needs a tie and a reservation just for dinner with my parents," Soonyoung whines, toying with the buttons on his sleeve. "We could just go to a barbeque place and dad would be perfectly okay with it."_

_Wonwoo gives him a sharp look from where he's doing up the buttons on his vest— a frickin' vest! Soonyoung feels _attacked_ — in front of the mirror. "Your mother wouldn’t be, though," he says, and he sounds terse, cutting._

_Almost like the old Wonwoo, Soonyoung muses. He tries to smile, and if it manages to come out off, well. He's only human. He knows this Wonwoo doesn't mean it, though; it's only nervousness and anxiety eating at him, making him clam up._

_At least, he hopes it is._

_"If we can go to lunch with _your_ family at a hole in the wall, then I think my mom would be okay with anything," he reasons._

_"You just want to get out of wearing that tie," says Wonwoo._

_"You've caught me," says Soonyoung. He lets his body collapse on the bed, and Wonwoo swats at his knee to get him to sit up in a vain attempt at keeping Soonyoung from crumpling his shirt. "I just want to show up in a t-shirt and flipflops to meet my own mother. _Please_." He pouts up at Wonwoo. "How come you never complain about what I wear when we meet up with your brother?"_

_Wonwoo snorts, the corner of his lips quirking upwards at the reminder. "Bohyuk's easy to please. Just give him anything and he'll eat it like a starving college kid." His eyes dart away from Soonyoung's face and back to the mirror, smile turning strained. "Your mother already hates me as it is."_

_There's a lot about his visions that Soonyoung doesn't really know, that he's had to muddle through and piece together while trying not to look as confused as he felt. The first time he'd met Wonwoo in his dreams, he'd tried not to scream at the sight of an attractive, half-naked man spooning him in bed, and the ensuing morning after was like something straight out of a bizarre sitcom Soonyoung was only half-convinced was the world's biggest prank. Wonwoo, then, had asked him if he was okay and checked him over for a fever, and Soonyoung, ever the eloquent one, just pretended to be asleep and woke back in his own bed with a phantom ache in his stomach._

_He'd only found out his name a few days later, and Soonyoung's been playing detective ever since. Sometimes, Soonyoung just makes it up as he goes along, already a practiced liar at this game, but he's learned enough, over time and different places, a few fundamental truths about the hypothetical future. One of them is that Wonwoo and his mother will never get along perfectly well, even if it used to break Soonyoung's heart._

_Wonwoo's _fine_ with the rest of Soonyoung's family— Soonyoung's heard Wonwoo talk to his older sister over the phone sometimes during holidays that haven't happened yet, and they've even met up with his younger brother a few times at coffee shops just to watch and laugh at him complain about classes. His father, too, is still a little awkward with Wonwoo at times, but they drink together and smoke while talking about work. Soonyoung's mom, though— well. It's a work-in-progress, if nothing else._

_Soonyoung takes a deep breath, and gets up to walk over to Wonwoo, whose back is still ramrod straight, on edge._

_"She doesn't hate you, idiot," says Soonyoung, touching Wonwoo's elbow. "She just—"_

_"Thinks I’m the same jerk that used to make her eldest son cry," says Wonwoo, dryly. His eyes flicker over to meet Soonyoung's in the mirror. "I know."_

_Soonyoung doesn't really like it when Wonwoo looks like this, like he’s equal parts guilty and ashamed. For the longest time, Soonyoung didn't really understand it— what was the worst that could have happened, that was so unforgiveable that Wonwoo couldn't let it go?_

_It's with a bittersweet realization that he thinks he finally knows what this is about, and he wishes he could lie enough to absolve Wonwoo of it. But he's not that skilled of a liar. Not yet._

_"Hey," he says instead, voice hushed. "Wonwoo-yah."_

_Wonwoo's fingers still from where they're smoothing over his tie, but he keeps his gaze straight, focused on the collar of his shirt. A lot of people think it's Soonyoung that's the perfectionist in this relationship, but they mistake Wonwoo's silence for tacit acceptance, for not caring. Soonyoung can read it clearly, now, though, in the slight shaking of his fingers, the wrinkling of his brow. "What?"_

_Soonyoung cradles his chin, coaxing him to look back. Wonwoo doesn't, stubborn as ever. Soonyoung tries not to sigh at that. "Look at me for a sec, will you?"_

_"Soonyoung, we literally have ten minutes before our Uber gets here—"_

_Soonyoung kisses him._

_Wonwoo makes a gutted sound at the back of his throat, but Soonyoung catches whatever protests he has left with his mouth. A lot of times, when Soonyoung's with him, it's Wonwoo that's trying to coax him out, to bring him back to the ground; it's rare that Wonwoo's anything but sure about himself or about Soonyoung, like he's already made peace with himself that the Wonwoo Soonyoung knows hasn't quite gotten to yet._

_"Chill," he says. Whispers it against Wonwoo's ear when he pulls away. Wonwoo has his eyes half-lidded as he catches his breath, a far sight from the unruffled perfectionist he'd been just moments ago. Soonyoung just wants to wreck him. Later. "You know you have nothing to worry about, right? If my mom gets on your case, I'll talk to her about it, I swear."_

_Wonwoo doesn't look convinced, but lets his shoulders sag, his body relaxing into Soonyoung's. It's strange, how this Wonwoo values his opinion even when he doesn't really believe in it, while the other Wonwoo can hardly care. Soonyoung likes him when he's like this better, even if it makes something in Soonyoung clench._

_"You're hardly the most persuasive person in the world, Soonyoung," says Wonwoo._

_"Well," says Soonyoung, folding his arms over Wonwoo's chest, "I got into your pants, didn't I?"_

_"Don't even think about seducing me before we have to see your mother," Wonwoo groans, and Soonyoung chuckles against the shell of his ear._

_"You think too much," Soonyoung tells him. "What's the worst that can happen?"_

_"I don't know," says Wonwoo, dryly. "Maybe she'll throw something in my face. It seems to be a genetic trait, or something."_

_Good to know that some things don't change, even if Soonyoung knows he's branched off into the wrong route a long time ago. His stomach feels like acid's seeping into it, now, even as the fond look on Wonwoo's face is making his insides feel lighter than ever._

_He really _is_ weak to Wonwoo's face, he guesses._

_"It’s ingrained in us to find you irritating, but it’s okay," says Soonyoung. He kisses him again, on the cheek this time— softer, but no less warm. "I still love you anyway."_

_Wonwoo's hands cover Soonyoung's knuckles; he chases after his mouth with a fierceness that Soonyoung thinks he'll miss the most, when everything finally comes crashing down. Out of all the things he wants to keep about Wonwoo, it's this. Only this._

_“Yeah, okay,” says Wonwoo, finally cracking a smile. “I trust you, Soonyoung.”_


	7. Chapter 7

"I don't think these will fit me."

Soonyoung's looking at the pile of clothes Mingyu's handed him unceremoniously after hogging the shower before Seungkwan; Minghao, as it is, practically swims in Mingyu's shirts when he's out of clean shirts (and, Soonyoung suspects, even when he has them), and Soonyoung's not really fond of looking like he's doing a morning walk of shame when he hasn't really gotten anything but a pounding headache and a crick in his neck for his troubles. Freshly showered and feeling a little more like himself, he's not in any hurry to look like a lazy college kid on his way back home. He doesn't need the neighborhood ahjummas in his apartment block judging him even more than they already do.

"That's the smallest size I even own," Mingyu complains as he scours through his closet. "I'm even lending you my sister's leggings, jeeze."

"They're very comfy leggings," says Soonyoung, solemnly, as he scratches at his knee. "I'll make sure to burn them after I use them."

"You'd better," says Mingyu. "She'll kill me if she finds out I let someone else use them."

Soonyoung shudders at that. He's met Mingyu's sister long enough to know that the threat is only half-joking. "If Minghao would only let me borrow his shit for once—"

"Not gonna happen," Minghao cuts in, barely lifting his head from where he's laying down like a lazy cat on Mingyu's bed. "Stop asking."

"Selfish brat," says Soonyoung. A white shirt hits him in the face, and Soonyoung peels it away from his damp hair with a wrinkle of his nose. "This is even bigger than the last one."

"You can just use it to cover up your non-existent ass," says Minghao, dryly. "The bigger the better, right?"

"I bet that's what you told Mingyu last—"

Minghao shoots him a flat stare. "Mingyu, didn't Wonwoo-hyung leave spare clothes here last time he slept over?" He says, sweetness dripping in his tone like the acid that quickly sours Soonyoung's stomach at the mention of Wonwoo's name. "Don't you think it'll fit Soonyoung-hyung better?"

"You are an evil person," Soonyoung informs him.

"I know," says Minghao, simply, before he plugs his headphones back to his ears.

"You're sleeping with the devil," says Soonyoung, turning to Mingyu. "It's not too late to back out."

"He's cute," says Mingyu, shrugging and proving that love is, indeed, blind. Soonyoung makes a face in disgust. "But, you know, he's got a point. I'm pretty sure I still have one of Wonwoo-hyung's sweaters in here somewhere—"

"Don't bother," says Soonyoung. He pulls the shirt over his head, and sniffs at the strong scent of fabric conditioner clinging to the material. "If I keep looking straight ahead, I can just pretend I'm stealing my sister's clothes for a morning jog. Athleisure chic, and all that."

"I didn't know you were the type to even care about style over comfort," says Mingyu, with a grin. "Weren't you the one who'd rather sleep in and go to class in your pajamas back in uni?"

"Some things never change," says Soonyoung. He picks at the hem of his borrowed shirt, and scowls at how it barely falls past his hip. "On second thought, gimme that sweater. Just—" He bites his lip, and when he speaks, he hates how hushed his voice sounds. How meek. "Don't tell Wonwoo I have it."

Mingyu doesn't comment on it, though, but something in his face turns softer. Like he kind of understands. "Sure," is the only thing Mingyu says before he goes back to digging around his closet.

He finds it a few minutes later and tosses it over to Soonyoung, who's drying his hair in front of the electric fan while checking his phone. Soonyoung hesitates before picking it up from his lap, fingers smoothing over the fabric. It's soft — the kind of softness you only get with something worn so often, so loved, and Soonyoung remembers Wonwoo wearing it a lot, back when they were still sleeping together like idiots. He wonders why Wonwoo's even left it.

"You don't have to look at it like it's gonna bite you, hyung," says Mingyu, quietly. His back is turned away from Soonyoung, but Soonyoung still feels like he's been caught. "Not everything Wonwoo-hyung touches is out to hurt you."

"I know," says Soonyoung. His throat feels like there's something in there that's been caught, trapped. He clenches his fingers into a fist around the sweater and holds it closer to his chest, right where he thinks his heart is, beating wildly, fluttering.

Mingyu doesn't say anything, and for a moment the only sound in the room is the quiet whirr of the fan and the quiet rustle of the clothes Mingyu's folding. Minghao's soft, muttered curses under his breath over whatever game he's playing on his phone, oblivious to the seeping tension in the room. Soonyoung wants to get out.

"Look," says Mingyu, with an even, careful tone. "I don’t know what it is that’s wrong with you guys _now_ —" Soonyoung would scoff at that, if he could find the humor in it, but it just makes him feel wrung out, exhausted thinking about it — "but I know it can’t be as bad as that time you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other the first few weeks after you met." The corners of Mingyu's lips quirk up at the memory, like he's remembering something funny that Soonyoung isn't privy to. "Now _that_ was a pain in the ass."

Soonyoung imagines it is, but he doesn't know how to feel about it, now that Mingyu's decided to breach the subject. On one hand, he's known Mingyu since Mingyu's freshman year, when he'd been a stuttering, flustered freshman either constantly arguing with Minghao or at a loss for words around him, a strange mix of besotted and flustered that made Soonyoung's stomach flutter and twist for them. He wonders where that boy went.

Then again, Soonyoung hasn't been exactly anything but self-absorbed in his problems in the past few years. Sometimes, the realization of it rankles him, especially when his friends tease him about how thoughtless he can be, how prone to fleeting fancies. Soonyoung's always thought of himself as someone careful, deliberate, and his mother's always taught him better than to indulge in moments of immaturity. Being loose and free to coast along has changed him, somewhat. Being around Wonwoo, too, brings out the worst in him than the best.

And they say love is supposed to make you a better person. Funny, that.

At least for Mingyu, it seems to hold true, and a lot of people like him for it. Mingyu's always been a healthy balance between Seokmin's overly friendly nature and Minghao's occasionally more bullish stare-downs at strangers, so he hasn't really been one to intervene or interfere as much in anything, except when he feels like he absolutely has to. He's always been the type to take care of people without coddling them or driving them away.

On the other hand, Mingyu's known Wonwoo since high school, even followed him all the way to uni. Soonyoung can't imagine how a decade of friendship would hold up against stupid decisions made in collefg; when he thinks about it— really thinks about it— he knows: he won't be the side Mingyu will choose, if they get to that point.

Soonyoung doesn't expect to be the first choice, anyway. It's different.

Maybe they'll get to that point soon. Back then, Soonyoung was so sure they were already on the verge of it. All the averted eyes, the unspoken, stifling tension— they were so, so close.

To be fair, though, it's not like it was Soonyoung that avoided Wonwoo like a plague, after that time they'd almost slept together and didn't. Back then, it had taken months of hovering from a safe distance, trying to estimate if Wonwoo would balk or completely freeze up in his presence, like Wonwoo was some particularly prickly cat that could run away at the first sight of Soonyoung approaching him. Soonyoung doesn't remember much about that time— doesn't _want_ to remember it, really— but what he remembers most is being sad a lot, especially around Wonwoo.

It had felt so much simpler, then, when he thought the only reason Wonwoo hated his guts was because he was a judgmental asshole. Now he knows it's so much more than that.

 

 

_"Are you just gonna skulk around my room the whole night?"_

_Soonyoung looked up from his phone, right as his virtual dog ate a grape and keeled over while an oversized ghost with (barely) reduced HP laughed at his plight. He glared at Mingyu, who was still hovering by the doorframe with his arms crossed, unamused and unsympathetic to Soonyoung's woes. No wonder he and Minghao fought all the time about stupid shit. It figured._

_"I was about to get to level 289," Soonyoung whined, putting his phone down. "You ruined the moment."_

_"Everyone's in the den socializing," said Mingyu. "Meanwhile, you're here hiding like a kid at a family reunion, and Wonwoo-hyung is drinking beer like he wants to black out soon. Something tells me there's a definitive correlation between those two things."_

_"You don't even know what that word means," Soonyoung accused. "You almost flunked Math."_

_"And_ you're _avoiding the subject," said Mingyu, crossing the room to sit by the edge of his bed. He pinched Soonyoung's calf, and Soonyoung almost kicked the smug smirk on his face in the process. "What? Am I wrong about anything so far?"_

_"I don't know," said Soonyoung, sulking. "Why don't you ask Wonwoo?"_

_"Is this still about him kicking you out of his place right before you could get a hand down his pants?" Mingyu asked, sounding bored. "Because that was pretty funny to me, just saying."_

_"He_ told _you about that?" Soonyoung squawked, mortified. He could feel his face blanch. Great. Now he really wanted to die. "_ Why _?"_

_"When you've known someone like Wonwoo-hyung as long as I have, you kind of learn to read between the lines," said Mingyu, solemnly. "That, and I heard him talking to his brother about it."_

_"Why would he even—" Soonyoung took a deep, fortifying breath. Shaky. "You know what? Never mind. I don't think I'm mentally prepared to even contemplate being with someone who constantly overshares with the rest of his family about things that may or may not be related to his dick. Just. No."_

_Mingyu, the bastard, just laughed at him. "You have absolutely no choice, hyung," he teased. "You're going to shack up with him sooner or later. God only knows how many times we've had to hold your hand while you drunk-cried about him before you even met him."_

_"Just let me die," Soonyoung wailed. Mingyu patted his hip in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture, but only came out patronizing._

_"No can do, hyung," said Mingyu. "We've had to pretend to be your boyfriends just to fend off any handsy drunks at bars. Wonwoo-hyung should be sending us a gift basket now that we've kept you from doing a lot of dumb shit in the past."_

_Soonyoung's stomach churned, at the reminder, and he curled up against Mingyu's body pillow, shoulders hunched. "_ Wonwoo _probably won't even care," he grumbled. "He already hates me as it is."_

 _"He doesn't hate you," said Mingyu, snorting. "Trust me, you'd know if he hated you." Soonyoung didn't really believe_ that _, but Mingyu reached over to run a hand over his hair, his touch soothing against Soonyoung's scalp; it kept Soonyoung quiet and still enough that Mingyu just went on. "You just make him feel a lot of weird things, that's all."_

 _"_ He _makes me feels weird," Soonyoung muttered, letting his eyes close. Dreaming about Wonwoo for most of his life and actually seeing him in person— Soonyoung still couldn't really tell the difference sometimes, not when everything bled together and just made him confused about the things he thought he knew Wonwoo would be, and the way Wonwoo was now._

_It just hurt thinking about it._

_"Wonwoo-hyung's like a cat," said Mingyu, after a moment. "A very prickly, unfriendly cat, but he'll warm up to you eventually."_

_"It better happen sometime soon," said Soonyoung, testily. "I'm gonna_ die _from feeling too much at this rate."_

_"You've waited for him for years," said Mingyu. "What's a few more, if you're really meant to be together?"_

_Soonyoung opened his mouth, and shut it again. He hated it when Mingyu had a point. It wasn't Mingyu's fault he was just too impatient._

_"It's funny how life works out," Mingyu mused, like he didn't expect Soonyoung to say anything else. "I've known him for a pretty long time, but I never would have expected him to be the guy of your dreams." He looked down at Soonyoung, and his smile was crooked, shy, almost. "I'm glad it was him, though. I think I can see how you two would fit together."_

_"Two kids and a dog," Soonyoung grumbled, trying to cover up the fluttering in his chest with something gruff, nonchalant. Mingyu let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head. "I have big plans for that one."_

_"He_ hates _dogs."_

_"Then why am I marrying him again?"_

_"I don't know," said Mingyu, playfully. "Are you sure you didn't get someone to slip a love potion into him or something?"_

_"If I did, he'd be all over me by now," Soonyoung pointed out._

_"Good luck," said Mingyu. "It'll take a lot of work, but you'll get there. I have complete faith in your abilities, even if a little warning would be nice, sometimes."_

_"I'm still not telling you anything about Minghao in the future," said Soonyoung, flatly. Mingyu wrinkled his nose and tugged on a handful of hair, making Soonyoung whimper._

_"Just for that, I hope it takes you a decade before Wonwoo-hyung puts out." Mingyu's thumb stroked the curve of Soonyoung's cheek, and he looked down at him with more gravity than Soonyoung had ever expected him to possess. "Be careful with him, hyung. He's a lot more fragile than he tries to let on."_

_It occurred to Soonyoung, then, that as much as he knew about Wonwoo in the future, there really wasn't a lot he knew about Wonwoo now, or anything about Wonwoo from before. The way Mingyu was talking, you'd think Soonyoung was going to break his heart. But he wasn't, he thought. If anyone had to be worried about anything, it was Soonyoung._

_And that— well. That terrified him. It was easier to joke around than looking at his problems head-on, though._

_"The way you talk about him, it's like you're in love with him," said Soonyoung, keeping his tone light. "Is there anything Minghao should be worried about?"_

_Mingyu raised his hands up in self-defense. Soonyoung almost missed the feel of his fingers against the top of his head._

_"I didn't mean it like that," Mingyu protested, spluttering. "I just meant— since Wonwoo-hyung's kind of an empath—"_

_Many years later, if anyone asked Soonyoung what he'd felt at that moment, he honestly couldn't remember; but what he did remember, out of everything else, was how quickly something in his insides swooped, how everything felt like a thin layer of film had covered his entire body and clogged everything up. In that moment, he thought he'd been waking up in one of his dreams. Hoped for it, even._

_He tried to speak properly, but it came out weak, unsteady. Like cotton was blocking his mouth, his throat, his ears, everything. "He's a what?"_

_Mingyu scrunched up his nose, like he was trying to remember something and couldn't figure it out just yet. "Oh yeah," said Mingyu, "didn't you know? It's Wonwoo-hyung's gift." He shook his head, a wry grin on his face. "He can tell when people are lying, just by their emotions."_

_Soonyoung feels his stomach lurch, the stone in his stomach a full-on boulder now. "No," he says, voice hollow, "I didn't."_

_"It's the coolest thing ever, even if he's really difficult to prank," said Mingyu, cuffing him upside the head. "Don't worry too much about it, hyung. If I can feel your raging hard-on for him, who's to say he hasn't felt it all this time?"_

_"Yeah," said Soonyoung. Suddenly he wanted to crawl under Mingyu's covers and never get out. "You're right about that."_

_Jeon Wonwoo, he would later reflect, had a lot of secrets. This wouldn't be the only one._

_(The worst part about it in hindsight was that this should have been enough warning for him, that the road ahead didn't have quite a happy ending in sight. But idiots — they grasp onto the faintest seeds of hope, plant them in fertile soil and wait for years to reap the benefits, only to get nothing but weeds and brambles. And Soonyoung was the biggest idiot for holding onto false hope._

_Not anymore, though. Not anymore.)_

 

 

"Hyung!" Seungkwan's voice floats from the bathroom, sharp and piercing. "I need a towel!"

Soonyoung's head shoots up, just as Minghao yanks his headphones away from his head and stalks past, grabbing the towel Mingyu's dangled above him in irritation. He hears Seungkwan squeak, and Minghao's rapid-fire muttering tapers off into a muted hush as Mingyu toes the door shut, blocking the noise out.

"This," says Mingyu, sounding amused, "is exactly why we had to soundproof our walls."

"Because Minghao wouldn't stop nagging Seungkwan?" Soonyoung asks, dryly.

"Because Seokmin lets Seungkwan get away with everything and Minghao doesn't," Mingyu corrects him with a grin.

The thing that makes Seokmin and Mingyu so similar, sometimes, is how they both tend to think better of people, even if Mingyu's a little more on the cynical scale than Seokmin. Mingyu's fiercely protective about his friends, but he's not one to deprive them the benefit of the doubt when they fuck up.

Soonyoung doesn't really know the particulars, but he thinks that out of all of them, it's Mingyu that really convinced Wonwoo that Soonyoung wasn't so bad, that if they couldn't be a one-tiime hook-up then they could at least try to be tentative friends. Wonwoo doesn't look like the type to be easily swayed into anything, but somehow, it worked. When Wonwoo finally acknowledged Soonyoung with a passing nod how many months later, Soonyoung could have built an altar for Mingyu then and there.

Being an idiot in love with the idea of love is stupid. Soonyoung tugs the sweater on, and rubs at his arms like he's still cold.

"Do you ever wonder how things could have turned out if we never broke into the pool?" He asks.

 _If I never met Wonwoo_ , he doesn’t say. Mingyu’s fingers still over the laundry he’s folding, and he sighs.

He pulls open a drawer and deposits the clothes in his arms into it. A sleeve sticks out, and Mingyu's brows knit together. Soonyoung knows that Mingyu doesn't like it when he can't fix things, and it's always Minghao or Seokmin that's better at smoothing things out, but he still tries, even if it's easier when he doesn't. He just wishes someone told Mingyu that, point blank.

"We would have wound up there one way or another, hyung. You’re really stubborn when you put your mind to it," Mingyu goes on, distracted, even as his words make Soonyoung want to curl up into himself. "Weren’t you the one who said that everything happens for a reason? It would have happened eventually," 

Mingyu finally crams everything into the drawer, and when he closes it, it shuts with a muffled _thud_. It sounds a little like finality, and it makes Soonyoung swallow the lump that's formed in his throat, unbidden, unwanted. His stomach clenches again, as tight as the grip he has on the hem of his shirt, fisted.

"Even if you try to run away," he says, meeting Soonyoung's eyes, "I think you’ll end up coming back to the same place every time."

It's far from being a comforting thought.

 

 

_Soonyoung didn't know how or why it happened, but here he was, in the den of the ski lodge with a spiked mug of hot chocolate in hand and Wonwoo nursing a bottle of beer of his own. There was something to be said about alcohol that made it so much easier for Wonwoo to be around Soonyoung, but something in Soonyoung still felt vaguely uncomfortable that the only reason Wonwoo was even talking to him was because he was barely anything but sober._

_(Was this what their future didn't tell him? That he'd be driving his future husband to alcohol just to put up with him? The idea of Wonwoo as a wine mom (well, dad) was almost hilarious if only it didn't make Soonyoung feel horrible about himself just yet.)_

_It didn't help that for the past half hour, Wonwoo had been droning on about all the things he couldn't stand — his shitty TA giving him a lower mark for having an Opinion, the horrible car ride spent squished in between Seungkwan and Seokmin playing carpool karaoke, how he should have gone home for the break but Mingyu wouldn't stop_ bugging _him about it— and, well, Soonyoung kind of knew Wonwoo kept a lot of things pent-up, but he didn't realize just how every little thing managed to get under his nerves._

_Soonyoung was almost half-expecting Wonwoo to start a tirade about him. He almost wished he did, if only so Wonwoo wouldn't have fixated on something else. Like, say, trying to understand the intricacies of a future only Soonyoung was privy to, and shooting it all down at turns. It felt a little like how Soonyoung imagined his thesis to be, only with a panel dead-set on giving him a failing grade._

_"So this version of me, from the future —" Wonwoo's fingers tapped against the rim of his bottle, and Soonyoung just sank into his seat, wishing the couch would swallow him up. "I’m supposed to, what, exactly? Magically fall madly in love with you one day, and then that’s it?"_

_When Wonwoo put it like that, Soonyoung could feel a bit (or every bit) of his confidence chip away, but he was nothing if not a performer. And an optimistic idiot, but that was neither here nor there._

_"It’s not a version of you," said Soonyoung, puffing his chest out. "It_ is _you."_

 _"Okay," said Wonwoo, sounding like he wasn't convinced at all. "Suppose it_ is _me, then. What happens next?"_

 _"I—" Soonyoung faltered, only to deflate at the thought. He couldn't exactly tell Wonwoo,_ well, one day you're going to put a ring on my finger in front of our closest friends and family and then I will totally Not Cry and the next thing I know I'm watching you feed a toddler in our kitchen and trying not to melt. How does that sound? _He needed Wonwoo to fall in love with him eventually, not consider signing him up for a psych ward, creepy living lie detector powers aside._

 _And that was the other problem, wasn't it? It wouldn't really bode well for him if he were anything but sure of himself. Wonwoo would just_ know _._

_"I don’t know," Soonyoung confessed. "I haven’t gotten that far yet."_

_The look Wonwoo gave him almost cemented his intense need for the earth to swallow him up. "So what you’re saying is... there’s a chance we don’t need to be like that right now? Is that it?"_

_Well, when he put it_ that _way... "Yeah," said Soonyoung, meekly. Wonwoo pursed his lips, and scrunched his face in a way that Soonyoung was familiar enough with to know that it meant that Wonwoo was already working something out in his head, like some problem he couldn't solve without airing it out loud. Soonyoung had seen enough of Wonwoo in the future struggling with reconciling balance sheets and trying to remember fifth grade homework to mistake it for anything else._

_"And if we’re not like that right now, then maybe we can avoid being like that forever," said Wonwoo, voice calm and measured, belying the way it made icicles crop up in Soonyoung's insides. "Does it work out like that?"_

_"I've never—" Soonyoung spluttered, flustered not for the first time around Wonwoo. It wasn't every day that he got questioned about his powers, and certainly not around someone that was supposed to trust him eventually without struggling against it. "They just happen, okay?" He looked down at his lap, trailing off. "I’ve never seen anything that hasn’t yet..."_

_"_ Yet _," Wonwoo insisted with a glint in his eye that Soonyoung didn't like. "You’re not even sure."_

_Soonyoung could feel the tips of his ears burning, and not from the fire they'd been tending in the den. His stomach felt like waves were rolling in it, and he didn't think that he could take another sip of his drink. It felt like Wonwoo second-guessing everything Soonyoung knew and felt abot their future was being treated as something inconsequential, like all those years of waiting and longing hadn't mattered and barely weighed up to a fraction of Soonyoung's feelings. He wondered if this was supposed to be part of the package, too, dealing with people that didn't believe him._

_Maybe he just had to believe in himself enough to convince Wonwoo, too._

_“I’m sure,” Soonyoung said, feeling his throat constrict. If maybe he felt his eyes prick with something wet, something hot, well. It was a secret that only he knew, and hoped that the dim lighting of the room didn't betray to Wonwoo. “This is the surest I’ve ever been about anything or anyone else.”_

_(If nothing else, then he was sure about the Wonwoo he'd come to know. Things, like: Wonwoo brushing his hair back, just so he could press a kiss to his forehead when he thought Soonyoung was sleeping away a fever— Wonwoo sitting through a strained conversation with Soonyoung's mother while holding Soonyoung's hand under the table like it was the only thing keeping him there— Wonwoo bracketing his sides as he clung to him in his sleep on a lazy weekend morning— Wonwoo looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered— Wonwoo saying his name like it was the only thing he knew— Wonwoo, Wonwoo,_ Wonwoo _—_

_"Have you been waiting long?" Wonwoo breathed against his mouth, just before he pressed a quick kiss to his lips when they'd met by the train station on their way back from work._

_"Yeah," said Soonyoung, throat bubbling with something like laughter. "It took you forever, you jerk."_

_— You couldn't fake something like that, could you?)_

_For a moment, Wonwoo looked like he wanted to be stubborn, to contest Soonyoung's words, but he might have thought better of it. Or maybe he was just tired and bored of the conversation. Soonyoung would never know. He watched Wonwoo rub the back of his neck and look away._

_"Stop looking at me like that, then," said Wonwoo, sounding terse. He fidgeted in his seat, like he didn't know what to do with his limbs when he was the one being held under scrutiny. "I hate it."_

_"Like what?"_

_Wonwoo's lips thinned out into a wry smile that had no laughter in it. "Like I'm gonna break your heart," he said, and let out a sigh that felt as aggravated as he looked. "How is this even supposed to work, anyway? I barely know anything about you as it is."_

__I know you, though _, thought Soonyoung._ I know what you could be. What you _will_ be, over time.

_And like that, foolishly, he thought it would have been enough to sustain them. He'd nursed that determination in himself to the end, and he'd looked at Wonwoo, then, with nothing but tenderness that ached so much he couldn't breathe._

_“Okay then,” said Soonyoung, putting his mug down and reaching out to touch the back of Wonwoo's hand with tentative fingers. Wonwoo didn't flinch away. “What do you want to know?”_

_And if he ended up talking the whole night— all the boring things like where he was from, what school he’d gone to, how many times he’s had to move around because of his father’s job— Wonwoo listened to him anyway. All the sad parts, the happy parts, the things that made him angry, made him laugh, made him smile— he'd stayed. Maybe he had nothing better to do, then. Maybe he'd just wanted to not be alone, that night._

_It felt a little like hope, growing, unfurling in his chest. And hope was always the most dangerous thing of all._


	8. Chapter 8

It's dark outside.

Soonyoung holds his palm out, squinting at the cloudy sky. Before they'd left the apartment, Mingyu had been pestering them to take an umbrella. Now that they're halfway to the train station, he wonders if there's any time to run back to take Mingyu up on that offer. It's not too late, he tells himself. There's always time.

"Don't even think about it," says Seungkwan, voice stern as he holds onto Soonyoung's wrist, keeping him trapped. "We're fifteen minutes away from the café and you are _not_ ditching us this time."

"We're not in high school anymore," Soonyoung whines, tugging at his arm. Seungkwan's grip is tight, unyielding. "We don't _have_ to walk home together."

"We don't, but it's fun," says Hansol, keeping his tone light, like he's trying to keep Soonyoung from running away like the jittery mess he is. "Besides, it's been a while since we've hung out. What's a few more minutes together, right, hyung?"

Soonyoung makes an unhappy sound at the back of his throat, shoulders sagging in defeat. He trails after Seungkwan and Hansol obediently enough, listening to them chatter on and fill his sulking silence— any other day and he'd be chiming in at every possible gap in the conversation, but his mood's practically at an all-time low now, as dark as the sky. Seungkwan keeps sneaking glances at him, but the pity just makes annoyance simmer in Soonyoung's stomach.

He's grateful, at least, that Hansol doesn't make his own concern apparent— if he even feels it. Hansol just keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead, talking about the last time he met up with Bohyuk. At least he doesn't mention Wonwoo at all. It's the only consolation Soonyoung has.

Still, the idea of Wonwoo looms over him, as heavy as the sweater feels, hanging onto his frame. He keeps himself occupied fussing at the hem and picking at a few stray threads, fingers plucking at the loose yarn. It'd be so, so easy to ruin it, to pick it apart, but it just feels wrong to take his annoyance out on something else, even if its owner is a dickhead. He bites the inside of his cheek, and clenches his fingers, crossing his arms over his chest to stop himself from fucking it up.

He wonders what Wonwoo's doing now. He's probably asleep in his own apartment, or maybe holing himself up in a corner of the room to read. If he's lucky, he probably has a date with someone decidedly less crazy, easier to put up with. If he's even luckier, he probably hasn't forgotten to bring an umbrella.

He thinks he tastes copper, on his tongue. It's only when he catches sight of his face by the window of a passing car that he realizes he's bitten his lip so hard it's cracked.

"Shit," he hisses, cupping his palm over his mouth. Hansol and Seungkwan turn to face him, and from the look on Seungkwan's face, it looks like it really _is_ as bad as it feels. "Son of a bitch."

"Jeeze," says Seungkwan, sighing. He feels around Hansol's coat pockets, pulling a chapstick out and holding it out for Soonyoung to take. "You're so clumsy today, hyung. Did Mingyu rub off on you or something?"

"I'll make sure to tell him you said that," says Soonyoung, drily. He makes a face as the balm touches his lip, wincing at the soreness.

"You look like you just got attacked by something," says Hansol. "Here, let me."

"It's fine," says Soonyoung, waving him away. "I've got this."

"Since when were you an expert, hyung?" Seungkwan teases. Soonyoung tries to crack a smile, but it feels as forced as the way Seungkwan's grin. A blanket of awkwardness settles around them like a cloud, and Soonyoung turns away to pretend he's checking his phone.

God. He hates this. He hates how awkward he is now, how quickly he can put a damper on his friends when once upon a time he'd been nothing but uninhibited, unreserved around them. Now, it feels like if he lets anything loose, he'll forget how to keep things under lock and key and everything will spill out, all his secrets, his messes. Wonwoo's.

Nothing has to change, he'd told Wonwoo once. Past him was a fucking idiot.

 

 

_"Fucking hell, Soonyoung—"_

_Soonyoung clambers over Wonwoo's lap, fingers fisting into his hair as he kisses him deeply. He can feel Wonwoo thumb at the dimples on his back, digging into the skin and trailing down to cup his ass, leaving a searing mark in its wake. Like this, Soonyoung feels like he's a giddy teenager rutting against his pillow and trying to get every bit of friction he can soak up, when in reality he's already an adult and hooking up with the love of his life_ , holy shit.

_Just the thought of it is enough to make a bubble of laughter rise from his stomach, kept afloat and tightly-fisted in his chest that Soonyoung wonders if it's a thing to pass out from feeling too much, too light-headed to function. The groan from Wonwoo's mouth, he swallows up greedily, and even through the fabric of his briefs and Wonwoo's jeans he can feel Wonwoo's hard-on clear as day, more concrete than any sex dream he's ever had in the past decade he's lived longing for Wonwoo. Or is this just something he's dreamed up again, too? He can't even tell anymore, too delirious with happiness. This must be what it feels like, to fit together with something you've been missing for a while know. To have it slot into place with a click, easy._

_"Wonwoo-yah," he whimpers into Wonwoo's mouth, when Wonwoo pulls away to breathe. Wonwoo makes a gutted sound in his throat, closing his eyes, and Soonyoung noses at his cheek, his jaw, his throat. "I want—"_

_You, he doesn’t say. He doesn't have to say it, not when he can't stop searching for Wonwoo's mouth, his fingers, his hips. Can't seem to think of doing anything other than keeping him trapped to him, pinned, like he never wants to let him go._

_"God," says Wonwoo, peeking down at him through hooded eyes. Soonyoung shifts on his lap, and Wonwoo's fingers scramble to his waist, trying to keep him still even as he tries to rock his hips up to meet him. "You're going to be the death of me, Kwon Soonyoung."_

_It's Soonyoung that ends up feeling like he's dying, though, when Wonwoo fucks him with fingers slick with lubricant, purposeful, intent; Soonyoung's toes curl against the sheets, scrabbling as frantically as his fingers tangled up in the bird's nest of Wonwoo's hair, and it feels like a knot in Soonyoung is twisting and snaking around his stomach, taut and inflexible and fuck, fuck_ , fuck, Wonwoo—

_He comes untouched, and his thighs shake so hard it feels like his skin is falling off, melting into the muscle. When Wonwoo settles himself in the crux of his thighs and looks down at him with bright, dark eyes, though, Soonyoung knows— it's far from over._

_He bites his lip so hard it bleeds, but it's nothing compared to the heady, overpowering feeling of Wonwoo fucking into him, like he's trying to devour him whole. He tries to hide the sounds spilling out of his mouth into the curve of Wonwoo's neck and shoulder, tries to muffle it into the scratchy fabric of his pillowcase, but it's useless; there's nothing to stop a dam when it's broken, water overflowing to the brim._

_He can't make out anything else that night, past the brightness of Wonwoo's eyes, the fire in it. Everything's so dark, he can't see._

 

 

Bohyuk's already waiting for them outside the café, seated on one of the wooden chairs and poring over a pocketbook as he drinks his coffee. If Soonyoung squints, he looks a lot like Wonwoo like that, absorbed in whatever it is he's reading and barely paying attention to anything else. If nothing else, he can make a clean escape.

At least, until Seungkwan cups his hands over his mouth and yells out Bohyuk's name before they even cross the street.

Bohyuk looks up, and it almost makes Soonyoung's breath catch, how the annoyed wrinkle in his nose reminds him so much of Wonwoo; how the way it smoothens out into surprise and not a little softness reminds him of the Wonwoo he'll never meet, not any time soon.

It's a sobering thought.

"Soonyoung-sshi," he says, shyly, later, when they're left alone after Seungkwan and Hansol go inside to check out the pastries in the dessert box, "it's been a while."

Not long enough, Soonyoung thinks, and plasters on a smile.

"Would you like me to get you anything?" Bohyuk asks, when he doesn't get anything more than a vague nod. "Coffee, maybe? Or something sweet?" He purses his lips in thought. "Wonwoo-hyung always said you liked hot chocolate, but I'm not sure if they even have it…"

Soonyoung's stomach clenches, squeamish. "I don't really like hot chocolate," he says, looking awkwardly at the floor. Bohyuk's tall, even taller than Wonwoo, so it isn't too much of a hardship to pretend the only reason he can't meet his eyes is because it hurts his neck to crane it upwards, just to look at him. Really, it isn't. 

"Oh," says Bohyuk. "Must have gotten it mixed up with someone else then." He furrows his brows, and mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely like _I could have sworn—_ before he shakes his head, as if to clear it. "I want to get you something, though. To make up for— you know. Last time."

"It's fine," Soonyoung lies. "I've forgotten about it already."

He's vaguely aware that Seungkwan is openly gawking at them from the safety of the café's interior, and Soonyoung throws him a cutting glare, mouthing _Don't even start_ when he sees the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, like he's eager to lap up a bit of juicy gossip. Seungkwan freezes in place at being caught, but rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Hansol, who's still chatting with the cashier. It's barely a sliver of privacy, but he'll take what he can get. Thank fucking god Seungkwan can't read minds, though. Seriously.

As far as Soonyoung knows, Bohyuk isn't one either, but what he wouldn't give for him to actually have the slightest inkling of Wonwoo's own magic and just _realize_ Soonyoung just wants to get away. "I haven't seen you in a while," he says, still smiling down at Soonyoung. "Not since. You know."

He lets out a short huff of breath, one that sounds more like an awkward cough than a laugh, and any other day Soonyoung would have felt his face flush red at the insinuation, would have opted for embarrassment. Now, he just feels numb all over. Desensitized.

"I know," he says, mechanically. He can't look at Bohyuk. Can't. "Listen, I have to—"

"Are you okay?"

Soonyoung feels the words catch in his throat, stilted. "What?" He croaks out in disbelief. How many months, and it's the first time he's heard that question in a while. He doesn't know what to think, or what to say.

It's strange.

Bohyuk squares his shoulders, looking as uncomfortable as Soonyoung feels. "You and Wonwoo-hyung—" Ah, Soonyoung thinks. There it is. "You haven't been over his place much, have you? You used to be together all the time so I was so _sure_ there was something going on, but whenever I ask him about you, he just clams up and it's just—" He stops and looks at him, helplessly. "Did you two have a fight or something?"

Not a fight, not exactly. How can Soonyoung put it without making it sound too dramatic, like it hasn't been inflated in his head? How does he put it without cutting its worth either, when he's internalized it so much? _Nothing happened. It was a clean break. There's nothing to worry about now. It'll all be okay_.

Everything just sounds like it's all wrong, and Soonyoung can't find it in himself to admit it out loud. So he just shrugs.

"Well, whatever it is that happened…" Bohyuk laces his fingers together, tapping his knuckles with jittery fingers, a nervous habit Soonyoung's seen on Wonwoo more than once that it's anything but coincidental. "For what it’s worth, I think you two are good for each other. I know he doesn’t really say it, but he really likes you a lot." He blinks down at Soonyoung, looking at him like he should just _know_. "You know that, right?"

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, for a minute. He doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound like a lie. There's so many things he could string together, but none of them would sound convincing, would sound like they're enough. And Soonyoung— he's never been great at lying, at weaving stories out of thin air. He's worn his heart on his sleeve and gotten it crushed with the weight of so many disappointments, it doesn't feel like there's anything left in him to fight.

He's so, so tired, he thinks. He just wants to go home and never go back.

"Your brother and I—" He begins. Pauses to think for a moment. Tries not to retch. "We’re not really like that. It was just." He looks at Bohyuk, shrugging. "It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious."

Bohyuk's gaze turns softer. More pitying. Soonyoung hates how much he looks like Wonwoo. _Hates it_. "But hyung—" He asks. "Why do you look like you’re about to cry?"

 

 

_The first time he sort of met Bohyuk, he’d been getting his ass kicked on Overwatch by Wonwoo._

_They'd both been playing video games in the living room, Wonwoo with his feet up on Soonyoung's lap and kicking him every time Soonyoung was about to shoot at his character just to throw him off. This—_ thing _he had with Wonwoo, it was still fairly new, but it was miles ahead of their initial awkwardness, all the bumps in the road that made trading barbs at each other more hostile, less smooth._

_Wonwoo was still a dick, and Soonyoung was one, too; at their core, they were like oil and water, never really melding smoothly, but Soonyoung was learning, slowly, that that was okay too. That it didn't have to be as perfect as he imagined it to be, but he could still try. And Wonwoo hadn't been too difficult about it either, which was nothing short of a miracle, as far as Soonyoung was concerned; he'd expected him to be combative, to be constantly on edge, not surprisingly docile and quick to sink into Soonyoung's halting extensions of an olive branch. Heck, Soonyoung would have cut off his own arm if anyone told him Wonwoo would be initiating things more often than not._

_He could do without the annoying parts though, he thought, shoving Wonwoo's socked foot away from his stomach. Bastard was a fucking_ cheater _through and through._

 _"Quit it," Soonyoung whined, hitting the pause button and jabbing his elbow into Wonwoo's side. Wonwoo just grunted and curled up into a fetal position, looking so wounded Soonyoung had to close his eyes and remind himself exactly to what extent Wonwoo was ready to go at great lengths for just to prove a point. The other night, he'd tried to play footsie with Soonyoung under the table over dinner with their friends, smirking at the way Soonyoung's ears turned progressively redder as he sunk lower in his seat, wanting to spontaneously combust. Wonwoo, Soonyoung was starting to realize, was a dirty, dirty player, and he was going to_ die _from all the cockteasing. "I'm serious, Wonwoo-yah, I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't stop—"_

_He had a hand over Wonwoo's shoulders, pinning him to the couch to keep him from squirming when Bohyuk had let himself in with a spare set of keys, sauntering in like he owned the place with a gym bag in one hand and a box of chicken in the other. "Hyung, I can't believe you'd make me buy takeout when you can always call for delivery," he grumbled, tugging his headphones off. "Do you even know how long the line was—"_

_He looked at the couch, and then at Soonyoung and Wonwoo frozen in place. "Oh," he breathed out, and then closed his mouth. Of all the first impressions Soonyoung could have made on Bohyuk, it had to be_ this _. He squeaked and recoiled from Wonwoo, as if burnt._

_Wonwoo just shot him a look that spoke volumes of irritation and disappointment (though from what exactly, Soonyoung couldn't say, too mortified and intent on making himself become one with the sofa to even discern), and he got up from the couch to walk over to Bohyuk. "Thanks, dumbass," he said, grabbing the plastic bag from Bohyuk's slack fingers. "Now get out. We're busy here."_

_"Hi," Soonyoung mumbled; it's one thing to want to die of embarrassment, and another to be impolite. "I'm Kwon Soonyoung, Wonwoo's—" Future husband. Maybe a_ some _? Who the hell even knows? "Um. Friend."_

_Bohyuk's eyes widened, and already Soonyoung was dreading what it was that Wonwoo had told his brother about him, with how quickly he'd latched onto his name and made a connection. "Is that—" Bohyuk started to say, but Wonwoo covered his mouth with his palm to shut him up. Soonyoung didn't know if he should be grateful he'd put them all out of their shared misery, when he started dragging Bohyuk away and herded him to his own room. Soonyoung covered his burning face with his hands, and tried not to make the slow smile that crept on his lips too obvious._

_When Wonwoo came back, his face betrayed nothing of embarrassment or even disorientation, but the way he kept drumming his fingers at his side made Soonyoung realize that maybe he wasn't the only one nervous here. Maybe Wonwoo was a lot more awkward and shy than he thought. "Don't even start," Wonwoo said, throwing him a scathing glare._

_His neck, though. It was red all over._

_Soonyoung figured that after weeks and weeks of tentatively getting to know each other and getting to the point that they were already trash-talking each other in violent video games and sharing tubs of popcorn between them while watching movies no one else wanted to see, they were at that point where they could joke around with each other, even with the knowledge of that thing between them, unspoken. Soonyoung had never really been known to be cautious, but he'd tried, he'd really tried with Wonwoo; seeing him now, though, Soonyoung realized that maybe he didn't have to wait for Wonwoo to make the move, all the time._

_Maybe he could hope._

_"Telling your brother about me already, huh?" He teased. "Glad you’ve finally accepted you’re stuck with me for life, Jeon Wonwoo."_

_Wonwoo scowled, but when he picked up his controller, his hands were shaking. "Shut up," he snapped. "Just let me kick your ass in peace."_

_Soonyoung cackled, even as Wonwoo glared at him and tried to smack his arm with the controller. He held his hands up, shielding his face, and when he spoke again, he felt something in his chest clench, even as he was laughing. "What, does he think I’m your boyfriend or something?"_

_The heavy weight on his arm stilled; Soonyoung lowered his hands, slowly, and watched Wonwoo's controller fall to his side, abandoned now. There was something in Wonwoo's face that Soonyoung couldn't read. Something a little sad, a little hesitant._

_He didn't understand it, then, but thought he did, when Wonwoo just mumbled, "Something like that." It made that fist in Soonyoung's chest loosen, exploding into a flutter of wings, and he beamed at Wonwoo, even as he felt strangely shy._

_He never did find out what it was that Bohyuk was about to tell him, until later. Then he wished he never found out. In that moment, though, he thought that it could have been enough, that this was what all his dreams had led him up to. That he was on the right track._

_So when Wonwoo kissed him in the back of his car in senior year, how many months later, he didn’t think about it too much, or at all._

_It felt easy to sink into him, just like that._


	9. Chapter 9

The commute back home passes by like a blur to Soonyoung.

It's mechanical, almost routine at this point to trace his steps to the train station, past the turnstiles and to the stairs leading to the boarding area. The first time he'd moved to Seoul, everything had felt too large, too immense, routes and connections twisting like complicated webs that he'd thought he'd never get a hang of it, no. Older now and more entrenched in his habits, and yet when he slumps against the farthest end of the train, head woozy and aching all over, it's suffocation that he feels, now, like the near-empty coach is closing in on him and threatening to choke him with bony, clammy fingers that feel too much like Wonwoo's.

He tries to focus on the red emergency button, just so he can ignore the churning in his stomach. He'd begged off staying longer, prickly and on edge when Bohyuk had tentatively offered to call Wonwoo to invite him over, and he'd walked around with his thoughts muddled and in disarray, the breather doing nothing to clear his mind. _You've been fine for months_ , he tells himself. _Get a fucking grip, Soonyoung_. But he can't. He can't. There's still something broiling in his stomach that feels too much like anger and resentment. It's getting harder to be in control.

But when has he ever been, really? It had been so simple, when he'd though the only thing he'd need to know were the answers to next year's test, or which idol was going to win in the next music show. Now he's grounded, more cynical. Expectations never match up, too many things get in the way, investments never guarantee returns when there's always that tiny probability that things don't work out the way he lets his dreams dictate them. It doesn't matter.

Maybe Wonwoo's right. Maybe there really is no point in knowing the future. _I've given up. I don't understand you. The more I know you, the more it feels like I don’t want to keep you, and it's crazy. It's just not the same._ They're all things he's thought of telling Wonwoo, before he'd broken it off. The slope of Wonwoo's bare back turned against him as he slept had felt so out of his reach, he'd been afraid to touch him again. All the false starts, all the wrong twists and turns, and everything leading up to Wonwoo hadn't felt like it had taken away the ache, no.

That's the sad part about desperation— how he'd been content to settle. The first time they'd slept with each other, they'd been drunk and lonely, and liquid courage had been the only thing that kept Soonyoung afloat. Wonwoo had stuck so close to him, keeping a hand on the small of his back the whole night they were at someone else's party, and the smell of his aftershave and the heat of his body through their clothes had made Soonyoung reckless, uncaring. The longer they stayed, the more stupid shit they'd goaded each other into. The shorter the distance. The more honest they became.

Wonwoo's the one that started it, Soonyoung thinks, exhaling through his nose. _If we're meant to be together, we're going to do it eventually, right?_ Wonwoo had asked, then. _It's okay, isn't it?_

And that was the problem. Soonyoung had let him. The hunger hadn't abated, then; it hadn't gotten easier at all.

 

 

_"I told you not to make bets with me."_

_Wonwoo poured him another glass of wine and passed it to Soonyoung after filling it to the brim. They were hiding out in the balcony of Jisoo's apartment, squirreling away from the impromptu round of Never Have I Ever in the living room with a stolen bottle of wine, and they'd taken to trying to get the other drunk with an equally juvenile game of kai bai bo. So far, Wonwoo was still sober. Soonyoung was just trying not to fall off the balcony and die at this point, but at least Wonwoo had a hand braced around him to keep him upright._

_"Fuck off," said Soonyoung. Slurred it, more like, and Wonwoo just laughed at him. Fucker._

_"This is why you'll never win against me, Kwon Soonyoung," said Wonwoo, loftily, even as he helped him tip his head back to drink. Soonyoung was so out of it, he couldn't hold the glass in his hand upright anymore, but it was stubbornness that made him fumble with the glass in his hand. Stubbornness and that tiny bit of stupidity that made him want to please Wonwoo to the point of ridiculousness. That part he'd later grow to hate, that was so desperate to get him to stay._

_A bit of wine spilled out of his mouth, soaking the collar of his shirt; he stumbled forward, but Wonwoo was there to catch him, hands braced against his hips. He was close. Too close. He could kiss him and make it look like an accident, if he wanted. He could blame the eagerness on alcohol, instead._

_Someone let out a sharp, shaky exhale. Heart in his throat, blood pounding in his ears, Soonyoung thought it was him, even if he couldn't feel his lungs anymore. It couldn't have been Wonwoo._

_"Do it, then," Wonwoo said, hands snaking up to settle on his waist, and Soonyoung blinked at the floor, wanting to dry heave. Is Wonwoo a mind reader now, he wondered. Or is this that— that—_ thing _Mingyu was telling him about. That. Whatssit. Yes._

_Wonwoo laughed, and the sound of it made Soonyoung's head hurt even more. He groaned and let his head rest against Wonwoo's shoulder, trying to focus on the feel of Wonwoo's frame, bony and warm. A year ago, and Wonwoo would have pushed him away without even thinking, leaving him slumped on the ground to nurse his own headache. Now, when Soonyoung looked up at him, Wonwoo's lips brushed against his forehead with a softness that almost made Soonyoung think he'd been dreaming, instead. That he'd been mistaken._

_Maybe he'd fallen asleep in the middle of it and this was the future. The thought of it made him feel brave enough to tuck his face against the curve of Wonwoo's neck and shoulder, like he always did when he'd felt like shit around his Wonwoo. It must be him. It had to be._

_"You're kinda cute when you're drunk," said Wonwoo. He thumbed at the corner of Soonyoung's mouth, stroking at the curve. "It's like you have no brain-to-mouth filter whatsoever."_

_Everything was spinning, now. He couldn't even tell the difference between the things he was thinking, and the things he wanted to say, but it made him feel loose-limbed, like he was still floating in the water years ago without even knowing he'd be meeting Wonwoo. He remembered the dark green ceiling of the pool, the ghostly-white shade of Wonwoo's arms under the water he was treading. His hands pulling him from under the water, new and familiar all at once._

_"Did you think I was cute when you first met me, then?" Soonyoung mumbled against his shirt._

_Wonwoo's hands sifted through his hair, pushing his sweat-slicked bangs away from his forehead. "More than you'd ever know," said Wonwoo, so softly Soonyoung thought he must have imagined it. He must have._

_When Wonwoo dipped his head to nose at his cheek, pecking the corner of his mouth, he wondered if this was what a moral victory had felt like, or if it was just the headiness of the alcohol seeping into his bones. He let out a choked whimper, when Wonwoo pulled away. Heat was pooling in his belly, simmering with the coiling in his stomach._

_"Do you wanna come home with me tonight?" Wonwoo asked, eyes hooded as he looked at Soonyoung._

_He'd never said yes to anything faster in his whole life than he did at that moment, and the triumphant look on Wonwoo's face seemed enough, at that time. But if Soonyoung thought long and hard about that small, secretive curve of Wonwoo's mouth, he'd wonder later if it was the right thing to do. If he hadn't been rushing into things like an idiot all over again._

_He was drunk and in love, though. He didn't really care._

 

 

He almost misses the stop, if not for the announcement from the speakers. The emergency button flickers into Sooonyoung's view and molds into the white walls, hazy but still jarring as he snaps his head up and pushes himself forward; he almost stumbles into nothing like some drunkard at noon, and a couple holding hands stare at him warily before side-stepping out of his way.

 _Yeah, fuck you too_ , he thinks, his tongue tasting bitter. He looks at their fingers laced together, and at their matching shirts. It's exactly the kind of gross, couple-y things Wonwoo can't stand, the kind Soonyoung wants the most, despite the cheesiness. When Wonwoo would comment about it with the kind of disdain he'd reserved for idol groups, noisy students in coffee shops, or even Soonyoung on occasion, Soonyoung would just bite back the well of irritation blooming in his throat and settle for trying to stamp the ill feelings down with thoughts of the future.

Relationships are all about giving and taking, but there's a limit to his patience. He's accepted for a long time now that he couldn't mold Wonwoo into what he wanted him to be like, but the grudging realization that maybe he'd never be anything like _his_ Wonwoo had been slow to come. How many cups of coffee and hours spent trying to find reminders of that version of him he'd loved best, only to come up inadequate in the end.

His mother used to tell him when he was younger that there were some things that you just shouldn't force, that they'd come easy to you if they were meant to be yours. There's a difference between being a martyr and being an idiot, after all. Soonyoung just wishes he'd listened to her a long time ago.

The sky's darker, now, when he alights the train. "Guess it's gonna rain," he says aloud, squinting up at the sky. If this were anything like the future, it wouldn't be too farfetched to catch sight of Wonwoo in the entrance of the train station carrying an umbrella on his arm, large enough to fit both of them. Soonyoung should know. He's dreamt of seeing Wonwoo do it, before.

It doesn't sting as much when he finds no one but strangers there; he's learned to temper his expectations, to draw the line between what's real and what's not.

He keeps his head down, as he makes his way home. It's a long walk back.

 

 

_It was the light that woke Soonyoung up, each and every time._

_For all that Wonwoo was an antisocial shut-in that preferred to stay at home to play video games over coming over to Soonyoung's, he'd always kept the curtains in his own room drawn. The first few times Soonyoung had slept over, he'd thought of complaining about how it always hurt his eyes, but whatever this tentative thing he'd had with Wonwoo was seemed to hang on a precarious cliff, like they were just waiting for something to drop._

_Even now, just staying in Wonwoo's bed felt awkward, out of place; this Wonwoo wasn't much of a cuddler, content to inch away from Soonyoung long after the heat had cooled the sheets and their sweat had dried, so different from the near-suffocating hold the Wonwoo Soonyoung had mapped out in his mind had been hungry for, like he hadn't been content with devouring him whole._

_The gap between them was barely a foot of space, but Soonyoung had never been able to find the courage to cross it._ It's too hot, _Wonwoo had grumbled the first time, shoving him back to his side of the bed._ Be grateful I'm not kicking you out, idiot.

 _He rubbed at his neck, at the purple bruise forming there, from where Wonwoo had sucked at his skin barely a few hours ago. It should be funny how Wonwoo had no problem with intimacy when it meant he'd get his rocks off, but the thought just made Soonyoung frown and want to burrow himself deeper under Wonwoo's blankets— a spare one he'd scrounged up for Soonyoung, because he didn't like to share. It wasn’t— Wonwoo wasn't_ bad _at sex or anything like that, no. It was just._

_Different._

_He'd thought, at first, that maybe all they'd needed to get a move on with their lives was to fuck each other's brains out, and then everything would fall into place. Wasn't that how all the movies went? One night of passion, and then they'd both realize that they were madly, desperately in love, that they couldn't live without monopolizing each other any longer. Then they'd move in together, have a fuckton of anniversaries, be as grossly domestic as they could possibly be without strangling each other in the process. Quick, painless and easy._

_So why did it feel like they'd just taken a step back?_

_Wonwoo shifted in his sleep, crinkling his nose and wrinkling his brow, and Soonyoung's breath caught in his throat, tensing up. It wasn't fondness or affection that was in his mind, though, when he watched Wonwoo move; if it were, then why did it feel like his insides were twisting, like it was anxiety and dread pooling in his stomach instead? Why'd it feel, strangely, like fear?_

_That tightness in his chest, it felt nothing like that all-consuming wistfulness he'd grown familiar with, whenever he woke up to a Wonwoo of another time holding him close, tracking drool and morning breath on his brow. He couldn't just reach over to tug at Wonwoo's cheeks, pinching him awake; this Wonwoo wouldn't pretend to ignore him until he came close enough for him to wrap his arms around Soonyoung's back, rolling him over and keeping him pinned to the mattress until he squirmed and begged for mercy. None of the comfort, and only the disquiet._

_His mouth felt dry, his skin scratchy and sore; when he shifted his legs, he'd felt more uncomfortable at Wonwoo's come sticky between the back of his thighs, when they'd forgotten to clean up. The messy parts, the bad parts— he'd missed out on it when he'd been living in his fantasies, his Wonwoo knowing where to touch, where to kiss, how to make him come undone without having to ask, reading Soonyoung's body like a second skin._

_It must have taken him time, years and years of figuring Soonyoung out and the effort to explore what he liked, what he didn't, what could make him melt under his fingers; this Wonwoo, he'd felt more single-minded, selfish, like he didn't know Soonyoung's body yet and didn't care to find out more._ Not there, _Soonyoung wanted to tell him when he'd raked his nails across the base of Soonyoung's ass, spreading him open, only to let out a choked-off groan._ Don't, _he'd thought, when Wonwoo left marks hard enough to bruise and splinter the skin, raw, sensitized. He just took, and took, and took until Soonyoung didn't know what to give him anymore._

_He'd been saving himself for this, and only this. He didn't want to think about how much it had felt like a let-down instead._

_He hated it._

_If nothing else, at least it gave Soonyoung an excuse to get out of bed and scrounge around for his clothes. He didn't bother to shower or to check if he'd put on the right side of his shirt in his haste; he'd reached for some wet wipes and cleaned after himself with clinical precision, enough that he'd almost felt like nothing had happened, like Wonwoo hadn't been inside him hours ago and fucking him so hard he felt like he was being split open. The bruises on his skin would heal, disappearing over time. No one would need to know._

_Wonwoo didn't wake up, not even after Soonyoung had tugged his shoes on, or when he'd shut the door behind him. Later, Wonwoo would text him if he got home safely, but it would be late into the night, long after Wonwoo would go on his SNS feed and like and comment on everyone else's updates like he hadn't thought about Soonyoung at all. And that was fine, Soonyoung thought. He didn't want to be too clingy, didn't want to push him away._

_His eyes, he thought, as he kept rubbing at them on his way out, past the dark hallway and the even dimmer staircase — they hurt._

 

 

There are few things Soonyoung's sure of in his life, and it's these:

First, that he's not as powerful as everyone else seems to think he is, and he can't will his dreams into coming true when they're just not meant to be, when they're actively not trying to make it easy just to prove a point.

Second, that of all the things in the world he hates the most, it's the liars and the assholes, and he's working on weeding those out of his life, cutting all the toxic relationships before they could get even worse, Jeon Wonwoo included. He doesn't need excess baggage. He knows he's a mess. He's trying not to be, at least.

Third, that after yesterday, clearly the wisest decision is to never be in the same room as Wonwoo again, for everyone else's benefit. Wonwoo's never going to stop feeling like he has to win over _something_ , and Soonyoung's never going to stop feeling like he wants to punch Wonwoo when he does, patience already at its limit. The best part about learning how to disassociate and compartmentalize is that he doesn't have to feel guilty, when he thinks bad things about the Wonwoo he has to deal with in reality. The one in his dreams, the one he loves most, it's just a different version of him. Someone completely different.

It's not him.

And finally, the thing he's the most sure about in his life is this: that Wonwoo is, utterly and irrevocably, never going to fall in love with him. And that's fine, he thinks, the tightness in his chest loosening. He doesn't love Wonwoo too.

Still— he doesn't really understand why, exactly, his heart feels like it's caught in his throat when he sees Wonwoo sitting outside his own apartment, looking like he's been waiting for him there for hours, sleepy-soft and nodding off at turns.

 _What the fuck is he doing here_ , is the first thing Soonyoung thinks, frozen in place and trying not to scream when Wonwoo's head snaps up at the sound of the elevator closing.

And then, the slow, sinking realization hits him. _Fuck_ , he thinks, mortified, _I'm still wearing his clothes_.

They've always had the worst timing.

 

 

_One of Soonyoung's earliest memories of meeting Wonwoo in his dreams goes a little like this:_

_He's fifteen and zoning out on the train after cram school, earbuds firmly in place and playing a cheesy pop song on his phone one minute, and the next the music's stopped and he's stepping out of the train in a stuffy suit and a really fucking expensive-looking phone in his hand instead of his sister's hand-me-down phone with the screen cracked and the back cover barely holding on._

_He feels his lips twitch, curving upwards, and his chest feels like a knotted mess, giddy. He knows what it means by now, a few months into this. Looking down at his[lock screen with a familiar face ](https://i.gyazo.com/85df19a67b7e3b8aa2dbcc5d1285fb88.png)_ [exactly _like his type holding out a hand like he's dragging Soonyoung towards him_](https://i.gyazo.com/85df19a67b7e3b8aa2dbcc5d1285fb88.png) _, Soonyoung's looking forward to the evening._

_It definitely beats having to do his homework, he thinks, thumb stroking at his phone screen. He can't wait._

_He finds him even before he gets out of the station, and Soonyoung just wants to jump over the gate just to get to him faster in a fit of recklessness. He's a respectable adult now, though, and he has to line up and look for his train card even as he pouts at the unfairness of life. So close and yet so far all at once, but that's okay. He has years left to wait for this to happen._

_Now if only Wonwoo would find him soon, he despairs. He's going to end up stir-crazy if he doesn't._

_"Wonwoo-yah," says Soonyoung, when he pushes past the turnstiles and makes a beeline towards Wonwoo, who's waiting for him by the ticket machines. "What are you doing here?"_

_"I thought we'd walk home together for a change," says Wonwoo, beaming down at him and looking so pleased at having caught him off-guard. "Besides," he adds, holding the umbrella up, "it looked like it was gonna rain, and I figured you forgot to take an umbrella with you again."_

_"I love you," Soonyoung coos, the words coming easily to him like second nature._

_Wonwoo touches his left cheek, scratching at it like he's embarrassed. "Yeah, yeah," he says, gruffly, "you always say that."_

_"I mean it though," says Soonyoung, and Wonwoo ducks his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. Even in his thirties, he still doesn't know how to take compliments well, and it makes Soonyoung's chest ache when he thinks about it; he must not get them a lot, or he's just too shy about it._

_It just makes Soonyoung want to tell him he loves him all the time, if he meets him. When he does._

_Soonyoung doesn't understand it, though— he hasn't really known Wonwoo for long, but just looking at Wonwoo is enough for Soonyoung to know that he must be popular around other people, especially ones that look like ulzzangs without even trying. He must have done something in his past life noble enough for him to bag someone like Wonwoo._

_(It's a tragedy Wonwoo doesn't know how to take a proper selfie, though; Soonyoung's swiped through how many pictures in his camera roll enough to know who the real photographer in this relationship is.)_

_Even now, Wonwoo barely looks like he's exhausted from work. He's loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, both things he's either borrowed from Soonyoung's closet or outgrown with how the fabric stretches over his torso tightly, but he still looks more put-together than Soonyoung does at any given day. That's fine, though, Soonyoung thinks, stomach aflutter. He can mess him up later, if he can stay long enough for it._

_"Is this my shirt?" Soonyoung asks, hooking his arm around Wonwoo's._

_The smile on Wonwoo's mouth turns coy, teasing. "Yeah," says Wonwoo, looping an arm around Soonyoung's shoulders. "It fits me better, don't you think?"_

_"That's not fair," says Soonyoung. "You're too good-looking for me to deny it."_

_"Well, we all know you're only with me for my face," says Wonwoo, face kept carefully blank, but Soonyoung's been around him long enough to know that Wonwoo has a strange sense of humor, dry and sometimes biting at turns, but never out to make fun of him._

_The first time Soonyoung had heard it, his first instinct had turned towards hurt; whatever it must have been on his face, then, had made Wonwoo fold easily and pacify his sulking with his mouth. He wonders if maybe he'll ever learn to adjust to it. If it will get any easier, when he grows up._

_He's only fifteen in reality, though, even if he's play-acting in a thirty-something year old's body. That doesn't stop him from clambering over Wonwoo after dinner, though, and peppering his face with enough puppy kisses that make Wonwoo squirm and laugh. The dishes are still unwashed, piled up in the sink, but Soonyoung's a man with a mission, aiming to distract him._

_At fifteen, he doesn't know much about sex or falling in love, but he thinks that if anyone could teach him best, it would be Wonwoo, with his crinkly-eyed smiles and his low, soothing voice that has Soonyoung's insides churning. The kiss turns deep, searching, and Soonyoung lets himself be greedy, for once. Just this once, he thinks._ Please _._

_Wonwoo doesn't seem to mind it, when he does. When he kisses Soonyoung, it's with a fierceness that has Soonyoung wondering if this is what it feels like, to be eaten alive. If he should feel more afraid about it._

_There's nothing scary when Wonwoo touches him, palming his dick and fucking him with lubed fingers to loosen him up. He's always been afraid of fucking up on his first time, has heard enough secondhand horror stories from his friends and forums to know, but it's easy when Wonwoo sinks into him with deep, languid thrusts that make Soonyoung see white stars at the back of his eyelids every time. The heat of Wonwoo's mouth, the sharp, staccato panting against Soonyoung's ear, the grip he has on the meat of Soonyoung's thighs as he keeps him spread open— Soonyoung wonders if it should feel more uncomfortable, more exhausting, but he feels none of that._

_Wonwoo's perfect, Soonyoung thinks, letting out a shaky exhale as Wonwoo guides him up to sit on his lap. It's almost too good to be true._

_Later, when he's curled up against Wonwoo in bed and listening to the slow, steady beat of Wonwoo's heart, he wonders if he'll ever get tired of this. Wonwoo has an arm braced around his waist, keeping him trapped, close; when Soonyoung tries to pull away, he just tightens his hold on him and pulls him back to his chest._

_"Stop squirming," says Wonwoo, voice still rough with drowsiness but absent of annoyance. "You know I can't sleep without you near me."_

_"I'm not gonna leave you in the middle of the night, Wonwoo," says Soonyoung, rolling his eyes. Wonwoo makes a dissatisfied sound at the back of his throat, almost affronted, and Soonyoung tries not to let his mouth curve into a grin. "What if I have to pee?"_

_"Hold it in," says Wonwoo, aggrieved. "My sleep is more important."_

_"Wow," says Soonyoung, punching his arm. "Why am I with you again?"_

_"Because you like me a lot," says Wonwoo, closing his eyes. "You love me, don't you?"_

__I'm not in love with you _, he thinks, looking at the spots of red across Wonwoo's nape, tender from when he'd sucked into his skin._ Not yet _._

_He's in love with the idea of Wonwoo, though. The possibility of it._

_One day, he'll meet Wonwoo in his time, and then he'll love him even more, when he gets to know him. It's not hard to, even now. It should be easier when they find each other. He can't wait._

_He reaches out to cup Wonwoo's cheek with his palm, the ring on his finger glinting in the dark like a promise. "You make it so hard for me not to like you," Soonyoung whispers, halting. "How do you do it?"_

_Wonwoo— his Wonwoo— doesn't say anything. He just kisses him again, slow and sweet._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!!!!!!!!!! \o/\o/\o/ we're so close to the end!!!!
> 
> this chapter has been written with the help of tonight I'm getting over you.mp3, ty queen carly for the inspiration ♥

It feels like a really bad dream, except it's not.

If anyone asks Soonyoung how it feels much, much later to see Wonwoo slouched against his front door, glasses askew and the hood of his jacket pulled low over his bangs, Soonyoung can't really explain it. He's never been eloquent when it comes to describing how his own dreams feel like, even the ones he wants to stay in for hours, but at the very least, he can say it doesn't feel like a nightmare, not yet— just an interminable stretch of a corridor and the heavy drag of his feet, like he's rooted in place, still and sober, and Wonwoo's either the lady or the tiger behind the doors, unreadable.

He bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough to bruise and draw blood. He blinks.

Wonwoo's still here. Still there, waiting. Real.

There's something strange about seeing him; he's never been one to wait around for Soonyoung, not really, content to take things as they come, at best, or with barely-concealed impatience or irritation, at worst. Like this, he looks out-of-place and awkward in the hallway outside Soonyoung's apartment— probably like how Soonyoung had been, in the past few years he'd spent trailing after Wonwoo before he'd reevaluated his life choices. And yet. And yet. It must be age that makes it so hard to move forward, to come closer to Wonwoo. Age, and nothing else.

He takes a step forward. Another. Another. His feet are lead, his ankles chained with a heavy ball of weight in its wake. When he was younger, he'd felt so light-headed, so unburdened whenever he'd caught sight of Wonwoo and bounded after him. Older now, and the soles of his feet feel like they're being pricked by nails and thumbtacks with each movement. He bites his lip, trying to ignore how his stomach feels like something's dredging everything up and leaving nothing but acid. Like he's about to vomit bile and empty air. Regret comes later, after the stupid things you used to do when you didn't know better; they come with a rush of nerves, a lingering, heady feeling of shame locking up his throat, his chest, his lungs. Funny how some things have the tendency to make you feel like shit how many years down the line, when you don't want to remember them at all.

He wonders what Wonwoo must have felt back then, seeing him wait around for him like an idiot begging for scraps of affection. Did he feel nothing but exasperation, then? Annoyance? Did he hate it as much as Soonyoung hated the embarrassment and choked down his pride? Is Soonyoung supposed to feel guilty that Wonwoo looks like he'd had better days, or that his spine is probably fucked from how many hours he'd spent like that? Because it's not any of those things Soonyoung feels, not right now, no.

He's expecting anger. He's expecting a sick sense of self-satisfaction. Indifference, too, if he could muster it. He just doesn't expect the ache that comes with it, dampening everything else.

It's unsettling, and he hates it. He wants to kick Wonwoo, to drag him off of the floor and push him back to the elevator, wants to pretend he's still in elementary school and forgiven for his more selfish moments, his unfocused tantrums, his lack of discretion, but his pride reels him in. He can't be like that, even if he wants nothing more than to pretend he's seven years old and hide out under the slides until the sun starts to set. He's not that kid anymore.

He settles for jamming his key into the lock with as much force as he can instead.

At the sound, Wonwoo startles like a spooked animal. His shirt's sticking out from under his jacket, rumpled and like he'd been in a hurry to get dressed, or maybe even camped out all night. The thought's absurd enough that Soonyoung almost misses the way Wonwoo blinks at him, slow but fixated as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes behind his glasses. On anyone else, Soonyoung would have chalked it up to exhaustion; on Wonwoo, he's seen him wake up enough times in his dreams to know that Wonwoo's trying to work something out in his head, cogs in his mind working faster than his facial muscles can catch up.

Soonyoung doesn't say anything to him yet, just keeps his gaze fixed on his key. He's not gonna initiate anything. He can't.

"Took you long enough," says Wonwoo as he scrambles to stand up. He smooths his clothes down with his bony fingers, tense and jittery, the awkwardness belying the rough, detached tone of his voice. "I thought you were never going to come home."

Soonyoung doesn't look at him even as he pushes the door open. He squeezes himself in through the narrow gap he makes for himself, and then moves to shut it behind him. Wonwoo's faster, though, blocking it from closing with his shoe. Bastard.

"Aren't you gonna at least let me in for a drink?" Wonwoo asks, sounding annoyed. _Good_ , Soonyoung thinks. _Be grateful I didn't slam the door on your fingers._

"No," says Soonyoung, gruffly. He tries to shoulder past Wonwoo to block his entry, but Wonwoo stays still, unmoving. "Get lost."

"I didn't freeze my ass off just to get shooed out like a damn stray, Soonyoung."

"Funny, I couldn’t tell the difference," Soonyoung shoots back with a roll of his eyes, but he steps away. Wonwoo follows him past the tiny living room and towards the kitchenette, where Soonyoung busies himself with setting the kettle one the stove just so he doesn't have to look at Wonwoo hovering by the doorway like he lives there. "What are you doing here?"

"I left something here last time." Wonwoo looks away. Soonyoung narrows his eyes at him. " Bohyuk told me he was with you this morning."

"Have you been here since then?"

"Yeah."

"You have a key, don't you? You could have let yourself in."

Wonwoo looks up, clenching his jaw; he looks guilty even in his defiance, and Soonyoung just wants to roll his eyes. He'd never returned his spare key, not since Soonyoung had given it to him with the lame excuse of making their hook-ups easier, more convenient. Even then, he'd barely used it. He had no need to, not with Soonyoung always being the one to come to him first.

"It didn't feel right to use it," he admits, quietly.

 _Yeah, because you're not welcome_ , he thinks. He swallows that thought down and hides it under the pretense of looking for a teabag instead.

Months ago, they'd been in the same apartment, barely a foot separating them at any given moment. Wonwoo had hiked him up against the edge of the countertop, had caged him in and distracted him at turns every time he'd tried to heat up dinner for both of them and left the food untouched, cold, as he got on his knees and sucked Soonyoung off in the middle of the kitchen. They'd kissed each other with a fierceness that Soonyoung would be lying if he says he doesn't miss the closeness, the heat. The way they'd tried to come close to intimacy with just skin.

Now, Soonyoung feels like it would kill him if Wonwoo takes a step closer, but he settles for pulling out a stool and sitting down behind Soonyoung. He can feel Wonwoo's eyes tracking the back of his neck, the slope of his back. His skin prickles with goosebumps, every tiny strand of hair at his nape standing up.

Once upon a time, he'd have felt flustered at the attention, would have soaked up the heavy, cutting weight of Wonwoo's scrutiny and mistaken it for interest. The gaps of conversation, he would have filled with meaningless nothings or the touch of lips on skin; now the silence is awkward, suffocating.

He's tired.

He looks at the steam wafting from the kettle, so close to boiling. _Come on_ , he thinks. The sooner he shoves a cup of tea down Wonwoo's throat, the faster he can send him home with whatever imagined object he'd left behind and he can sleep the shitty feeling off. Then tomorrow, he's changing his locks.

Or maybe he can just start looking for a new apartment, now that his lease is about to end in a couple of months. Somewhere even farther away or in the thick of the city, inconvenient, inaccessible, all the things he knows Wonwoo hates.

A clean break, he thinks, ignoring Wonwoo. That's all he really needs, and then he'll start feeling like himself again soon.

 

 

_"Do you ever think about getting a roommate?"_

_Wonwoo looked up from his half-empty plate of scrambled eggs, slightly burnt at the edges and still oozing raw yolk and melted cheese from the interior. He blinked at Soonyoung, gaze unfocused from behind his glasses. He pushed the frame up on the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat._

_"Excuse me?"_

_Soonyoung's intimately familiar with the spectrum of Wonwoo's stares. More often than not, the ones he got over the years were ones of disbelief or confusion, Wonwoo's eyebrows knitted together like Soonyoung was a puzzle he couldn't quite piece together at any given time. Sometimes, they'd be vacant, unreadable, almost like Wonwoo was just resting his eyes and it just so happened that Soonyoung was there blocking the way. On occasion, his eyes would be bright, alight with mischief or amusement as he wrinkled his nose and tried to hide his laughter. Even rarer than that was an all-too familiar heat that made Soonyoung's insides clench and shudder with anticipation, like Wonwoo wanted to devour him whole._

_Most days, it just felt like Wonwoo was waiting, like he was looking at Soonyoung and probing him for answers to a question that Soonyoung ever even heard. Like he was expecting something to happen, even when Soonyoung was as lost as he was._

_Soonyoung prided himself on knowing Wonwoo intimately in his mind, but outside of it he fumbled; he doubted himself with every downturn of Wonwoo's lip, the furrow of his brow. Something must have changed in Wonwoo, in the decade spanning the difference._

_Not for the first time, he wished Wonwoo would just hurry up and grow up and into himself, the one Soonyoung knew better, best. For now, all he could do was suck in the disappointment and puff his cheeks out into a pout._

_"I'm saying—"_ I think we should move in together _, he wanted to say, but the words died in his throat at Wonwoo's raised eyebrow. Whatever courage he'd mustered disappeared in the face of hesitation. "Isn't your apartment too big for just yourself?"_

_"Bohyuk comes over often enough that I'm considering charging rent," said Wonwoo, focusing back on his plate. "You too, you know."_

_"Me?" Soonyoung echoed. "_ You're _charging me for rent?"_

_"You practically sleep over every other day," said Wonwoo._

_"It's closer to work." It wasn't. "I bring you dinner!"_

_"Food's not enough, Soonyoung," Wonwoo scoffed, a hint of a smile playing on his mouth. "Neither are sexual favors."_

_Soonyoung spluttered, and Wonwoo laughed at him. For a moment, Wonwoo's face was soft and open, almost fond just like he'd be in the years to come. Like he wanted to kiss him breathless, and then some. But when Soonyoung blinked, it was gone so quickly Soonyoung was sure he'd only imagined it. It couldn't have been real._

_"Hey," said Soonyoung, clearing his throat when the silence went on long enough to make his skin itch and his toes curl with nerves, "you should come over my place tomorrow instead. I don't have a roommate or any annoying siblings barging in every time."_

_He got up from his perch on the countertop to settle on Wonwoo's lap, the angle crooked and awkward; Wonwoo's kneecaps dug under his ass, and it was uncomfortable and a pain but it surprised Wonwoo enough that he scrambled to hold onto Soonyoung's hips, keeping him upright. A lot of times, Soonyoung waited for Wonwoo to do whatever it was he was comfortable with, but there were times he'd felt giddy and reckless enough to surprise him, even if Wonwoo always said he hated surprises._

_Wonwoo looked distinctly unimpressed, but he didn't push Soonyoung away yet. "Compelling, but don't you have a farewell party for one of your co-workers?"_

_"I'll leave a key under the mat."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"I have a spare," Soonyoung lied. Already, he was wondering where he could duplicate his key at short notice. Maybe he could get Minghao to teach him how to pick a lock. "You can come over whenever you want."_

_"If you're sure," said Wonwoo, sounding doubtful all the same._

_"I'm sure," said Soonyoung, beaming up at him._

_He curled his fingers around the front of Wonwoo's shirt, dragging him down for a slow, lingering kiss that turned heated as it dragged on. Wonwoo made a small, needy sound at the back of his throat, fingers digging into the meat of Soonyoung's thigh. It made his heart flutter, open and shut._

_He'd hide in here forever, if he could. He never wanted it to end._

 

 

The kettle starts to whistle, and Soonyoung shuts off the fire a beat too late, just to watch Wonwoo wince at the shrill sound.

"I told you an electric heater would be easier to use," says Wonwoo, covering his ears with his palms. "It's cheap and doesn't hurt your ears."

Soonyoung tosses a teabag at Wonwoo, who catches it without fumbling. He pours the hot water into a chipped mug, filling it ¾ of the way, enough that Wonwoo doesn't complain and ask for seconds, but not enough to overstay his welcome. "Mhm."

"What happened to the one I got you last year?"

Stashed in the cupboard, behind all the barely-used kitchenware from his mother and well-meaning co-workers, untouched since Wonwoo had dropped it. He'd meant to use it the next time Wonwoo came over, but then things happened— and, well. He never got around to bringing it out again.

"Dunno," he lies.

"Did your sister borrow it?" Soonyoung doesn't respond. "Did you break it? I told you, you shouldn't try to make instant noodles in every appliance that can heat up water, it's gross and that video with the water cooler isn't sanitary at all—"

Wonwoo's babbling now. When Soonyoung's nervous, Wonwoo tells him he tends to run his mouth off without thinking about whatever it is he really wants to say and it's annoying, but he doesn't really know he does it too. Wonwoo's never really had much reason to ever feel out of his depth around Soonyoung, so it hasn't really happened as much, and anyway Wonwoo sulks up a storm enough that it's the only way Soonyoung knows how to cope with the quiet.

It's almost funny how they've switched places. It would be funnier, if it didn't leave Soonyoung with a sad, constricting ache in his throat. He just wants him gone.

"What are you doing here?" Soonyoung cuts in.

Wonwoo stops, mouth agape. He blinks at him, slowly. "I told you, I was—"

"Wonwoo," says Soonyoung, sounding even more tired than he thinks he feels. "Don't lie to me."

"Who says I'm even lying?"

People are inconsistent. They think they're telling the truth, but there's a difference between making excuses and grasping at straws. They mistake loneliness for desperation, and look for companionship even when they don't know how to fill in the silence, how to make conversation intimate enough to afford something more.

They lie when they say things like, I don't want you, even when they want nothing more than to hold on. Then they go home and fool themselves into thinking that they tried hard enough for it to matter, but it doesn't. It doesn't.

Being with Wonwoo is exhausting. Being in love with him— it makes it hard to breathe easy, and Soonyoung can't— he can't—

He cups his palms over his face, and he closes his eyes.

It's a long, long time before the illusion starts.

 

 

_One bag._

_That's all he needs in the end, as he packs his things woodenly, mechanical almost. It feels like his body isn't his as he goes through the motions, folding a t-shirt, rolling up a sock missing its pair. Another shirt. A pair of shorts. A jacket. Wonwoo's— no. He yanks it out of his backpack and throws it back into the closet in a crumpled heap._

_"Soonyoung," says Wonwoo, from his spot on the edge of the bed. He's shivering from the cold of the air-conditioning in a pair of sweats, and there's a trail of hickeys across his neck where Soonyoung had left them there the night before when they'd still been okay. Not perfect, but okay. Soonyoung can't stand to look at him, even as his tone turns into something more beseeching, enough to tug at his heart. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said— it was dumb, okay? I didn't mean to make it sound like I was making fun of you."_

_He scans inside the closet, barely registering anything beyond colors. Wonwoo wears a lot of monochrome colors, ones that are dark, earthy, grounded. Anything brighter than that, Soonyoung picks out, most likely his own. Unless it had been a gift— he looks at a baby blue sweater, pale and soft and fraying at the sleeves. He balls it up, and throws it into his bag even if he doesn't recognize it. It's his now. His, not Wonwoo's._

_"Honestly, can you just grow up for one second and not give me the silent treatment?" Wonwoo asks, exasperated. Even under the annoyance, though, Soonyoung can hear something underlying the irritation. Panic, almost. "It was a dick move, but what was I supposed to think? You_ never _stop talking about it, and I've never said anything about how much it's been bothering me, haven't I? I'm not the only one being selfish here!"_

_He stands up, walking to the bathroom. Wonwoo follows after him at his heels, keeping a safe distance._

_"It's different— I know it's different, but don't you think you're being unfair to me too?" Wonwoo asks. Soonyoung picks up his deodorant on the glass counter. His spare toothbrush. His razor. "So what if I lied about one tiny, insignificant thing that happened when we were younger? You lie to me every day you fucking tell me you're in love with me!"_

_Soonyoung's grip on the tube of toothpaste tightens, hard enough that he almost squeezes it out. "Fuck you."_

_He tries to shoulder past Wonwoo, but Wonwoo's blocking the exit. On the outside, Wonwoo's thin, and he looks like just the slightest use of force could turn him over, but he's stronger than he looks, more muscular. He holds onto Soonyoung's arms, keeping him in place. He looks so serious and focused, like the only thing in the world that matters is Soonyoung._

_Soonyoung hates that face._ Hates it _._

 _"How dare you," says Soonyoung, shaking with anger. Years' worth of disappointments, of moments he's had to swallow his pride just for Wonwoo to look his way, and yet none of it comes up adequate. Nothing. "How_ dare _you invalidate my feelings, when I'm not the one with the fucking agenda, you hypocritical piece of—"_

_"I love you," Wonwoo cuts in. His fingers dig into the meat of Soonyoung's arms, tight enough to bruise. Of all the times he could say something stupid, it has to be now, Soonyoung thinks, wildly. He squirms. "I love you so much, I can't stand it."_

_"You think that's gonna cut it?" Soonyoung asks. "You think I'm that desperate that just because you confess, I'm just gonna fall into your fucking arms and spread my legs for you? You think it's enough that you_ lied _to me for years, that you led me on and made me think it was gonna work out, that you've been_ deliberately _playing with me after knowing_ exactly _who I was—"_

_"I didn't wanna hurt you," says Wonwoo. "It wasn't— I swear." He takes a deep, shuddering breath, stepping closer to tuck his cheek against the top of Soonyoung's head, even as he stiffens. "I didn't want you to feel like you owed me anything."_

_Too late. Too late. Even now, Soonyoung feels like he's being suffocated by Wonwoo's hold, his warmth. His lips, hovering over his brow. The gentleness in it. When he and Wonwoo fight, Soonyoung doesn't expect it to be easy. He wonders why he's never dreamt of it before, why it's always, always been anything but the anger that drives him._

_"Let me go." Wonwoo's hold slackens, and he steps away, giving Soonyoung space. He looks a little— lost. Closed off. Like he's not sure what he's just said._

_Wonwoo just looks miserable, even as he clenches his fists at his sides. "You don't mean that," Wonwoo begs. "Soonyoung, just— don't be a fucking kid about it."_

_If there's anyone acting like a kid, it's not just him. Soonyoung looks at this Wonwoo, who looks years younger than Soonyoung knows him to be. He looks at the tension in his muscles, the slouch of his shoulders. There's no confidence in there, no assurance, just a swirling mess of doubt and guilt upon guilt upon guilt of imagined demons, half-truths and lies._

_The Wonwoo Soonyoung knows best isn't a coward. He's not someone who has anything to hide, who's plucking up courage under dry words or the air of indifference. He's not afraid to be hurt, and he doesn't redirect it like some kid having a tantrum. He's open, and he's kind, but he'd never settle for scraps. He looks at Soonyoung like he's his whole world, and not because he feels like he has to make up for something, like he has to weigh up to an abstract standard. This Wonwoo— he's not quite there yet, no._

_But he's a little hopeless, a little sad to look at. Soonyoung knows what desperation feels like. He knows what it's like to lie to yourself every day._

_"Don't contact me, Wonwoo," says Soonyoung. He zips up his bag and hefts it over his shoulder. The words taste like acid on his tongue, like he's trying to dig up something dark and sharp, aiming to hurt. "You've had your fun. I don't wanna see your face anymore."_

_The pleading expression on Wonwoo's face shutters and closes off into hurt. It's enough for Soonyoung to shove past him and out into the hallway. He doesn't look at Wonwoo at all._

_"Don't leave me," says Wonwoo, voice small, hushed, so soft that Soonyoung wonders if he's imagined it. It's easier to pretend he hasn't heard a thing._

_He walks away._

 

 

"Soonyoung. Please." Wonwoo's voice cuts in, brittle, exhausted. "Stop pretending like you can't hear me."

Soonyoung opens his eyes, and only sees the darkness of his palms over his eyes. His vision blurs, wet. Nothing. There's nothing. It hadn't been a dream, but a memory. It still stings.

"I don't wanna talk anymore," says Soonyoung. He digs his palms into his eyes deeper, until he can't see anything. "I mean it."

"You can't keep running away when it's convenient," says Wonwoo. Soonyoung hears the clatter of the mug against the surface of a table, loud in the quiet of his apartment. "Reality doesn't stop just because you want to be somewhere else that hasn't happened yet."

"It's not gonna happen anymore," says Soonyoung, flatly. His throat itches, like it's being pricked by a hundred needles. "It's never gonna happen."

"You're still seeing me in your dreams, aren't you?" Soonyoung bites the inside of his cheek, not admitting anything. Wonwoo exhales, undeterred by his silence. "But I asked you not to leave me, and you didn't," says Wonwoo, sounding as tired as Soonyoung feels. Wrung out. "Would you have stayed for him?"

"I don't know," he says. He slumps forward, folding his arms over the table and hiding his face behind it. "Can't you just leave me alone?"

Wonwoo's quiet, so quiet and still that Soonyoung wonders if he'll have to stay like this forever, head bowed in embarrassment and misery, stewing and wallowing in self-pity. Wonwoo's always been selfish and stubborn. _Always_ , and it just hurts.

"Just tell me one thing," says Wonwoo, after a while. "How come you can't forgive me for that one little thing, when you love me in the future so much you can't even lie to yourself?"


	11. (interlude)

Sixth grade is the worst.

Soonyoung isn't classmates with any of his friends from last year, so he has to start the year hanging awkwardly back after he cracks one or two jokes that fall flat with the people in class 6-A. They've moved him to the honors class after he'd breezed through the worksheets in 5-D even without the help of any fate-ordained cheating (except maybe in English, but _that's_ supposed to be a secret), and now he's friendless and alone with the rest of the stuck-up nerds in their batch. Breaks are steadily becoming his favorite period now that Math's getting harder and he can't quite break into years of cliques and friend groups, but it's not like he hasn't tried. It's just that no one really seems to be that interested in the latest episode of Naruto or what happened in Star Golden Bell the other day— nothing Soonyoung says or does is interesting to any of them, and it just makes him feel stupid when they freeze up.

Or maybe it's not exactly his social skills that are the problem, he thinks, glumly looking over at the seat in front of him. It's been a quarter into the year already, but the seat's still vacant for a good while now. _Maybe he's dead_ , the girls whisper during recess sometimes, when they think Soonyoung's sleeping on his desk. _Maybe the freak cursed him after what happened_.

Jerks.

It's not— it's not Soonyoung's fault, not really. The kid— he'd been one of the taller boys in their class, but he'd been getting used to his new glasses so he had to scoot up a few rows ahead just to see the chalkboard, and Soonyoung had spent most of the first few weeks glaring at the back of his head when he couldn't read the rest of the letters their English teacher insisted on cramming into the board with chalk even when none of them could decipher it anymore. He'd thrown bits of eraser at the back of the guy's head, and he'd gotten ripped pieces of paper chucked back at him in turn, a battle of will and stubbornness that tentatively turned into habit. Maybe the guy felt sorry for him, or maybe he'd been just as bored as Soonyoung, but it was the first time he'd felt something that had seemed a little like a tentative sort of friendship, in that tiny classroom.

It could have been, at least, if Soonyoung had just kept his stupid mouth shut. Biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes dart away from the surface of the arm chair, and back at the blackboard. Not even a few days into June, and he'd seen it while he'd been sleepily eating cereal in the middle of Saturday morning cartoons— the guy with what must have been his younger brother as they neared the intersection, Melona in hand. _Don't get any on your shirt, Hyuk,_ he'd said, already half-way done with his popsicle. The light turned green, and his eyes grew wide. _Hurry up, dumbass, we're gonna miss my show!_

He was fast, faster than most kids their age, Soonyoung knew; he'd watched him doing the relay at their last sports fest, so Soonyoung didn't have to look to know he'd made it to the finish line ahead of everyone else. All the girls in class had cheered and screamed for him when he'd passed the other kids, and it had filled Soonyoung with not a little annoyance even as the pit of his belly prickled with heat and churned.

It wasn't that Soonyoung had hated him, no. He was smart and clean, kept to his friend circle mostly, but he wasn't too bad. From what little Soonyoung could remember of him, he had a nice face and legs longer than most of their classmates, the kind of boy that looked a little more put-together than the rest of them. Something straight out of a heart-fluttering grade school crush. It was hard to not like him, but harder still to admit it.

He hadn't thought about that when he'd seen him in his mind's eye, though. He didn't think about how his stomach sometimes fluttered when he'd gotten a note under his pencil case, or how he'd get flustered watching him doodle on the margins of his textbook while trying not to yawn and fall asleep. Soonyoung was always, always watching him, even when he didn't want to.

 _Infatuation_. He learns that word from his sister, and it almost feels like something close to what he must have felt for the boy, until the terror and alarm sunk in. The bad parts, they're harder to forget. The easy parts bleed into memory and barely linger afterwards, less haunting like guilt. When the light blinked from green to yellow and a speeding motorcycle turned the corner, Soonyoung just felt light-headed and crumpled on the ground, spilling milk and cereal all over his mother's freshly-waxed floor, like he'd been the one hit instead of the guy's brother. His head lolled around, and he watched the white milk congeal and bleed into something red, something dark all over the wood. He couldn't breathe.

He takes a sharp breath and tries to focus on his notebook, vision turning hazy. Funny, how he can't even remember much about the guy, but he remembers this so clearly. He wonders if they're okay, if anything's changed since the time Soonyoung had stuttered out his panicked confession and gotten nothing but anger for his efforts.

He wonders if he's forgiven him yet.

It doesn't matter now. Soonyoung won't ever know, not when he'd moved soon after and switched schools. His father had gotten promoted, their homeroom teacher said, but the whispers and the rumors knew better— every day, the empty seat's there to remind Soonyoung that sometimes, it's easier to keep things in and let them fester. Sometimes, it's easier to stay quiet, to stay still.

So he just keeps his head down for the rest of the year and learns that maybe— just maybe— he should really learn how to lie.

 

 

(It's a little after that that the dreams start.)


End file.
